The Gold Corps: Genesis
by Nitebreaker
Summary: The War of Light is over, at least for now. But what does a warrior do, with no more war to fight? Where does one go, when the stars themselves are not enough? At least one OC. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

The Gold Corps: Genesis: The Boy Who Was Afraid

_Okay, just an idea that kept running around inside my head. See what you think._

_If anybody reading this is really under the impression that I own, or think I own, the Green Lantern Corps, Young Justice, or the Justice League, I have $26 million in Ugandan funds I'd like to launder through you. _

The only thing he'd ever known was fear.

The youngster had never known any other home but the crashed spaceship he'd found himself living on. Like anyone else in similar predicaments, he simply took it for granted. This was the way everyone lived. Not that he knew anyone else, of course.

The ship's computer, tied into its life support function, had, following the last instructions given it, raised and cared for him as best it could. When he began to question his origins, and how he found himself here, alone, it had, in its mechanical innocence, taken him to the bones of his parents, and explained the relationship.

It had been a tremendous blow to the young man's psyche. He was alone in the universe. Although the remnant of the self-powered ship he lived on could answer his questions, at least as far as mere facts went, it was not, could not be, a substitute for a living presence.

But the ship had taught him what happened to those beings who did not learn to survive, and had taught him basic survival techniques, most of which largely boiled down to identifying major threats to his life and terminating them with extreme prejudice.

Nobody had ever told him that killing was wrong (or right, for that matter), and, from what he could see and judge for himself, in the environment he found himself, it was simply the way things worked. Either you killed them, or they killed you.

In the crash that had marooned him on this planet, some of the computer files had been damaged. Some files were incomplete. But the ship had included many language files, and had taught him many different tongues, although it had never made it clear just what he'd need them for. After all, there was nobody to talk to.

Nobody but the computer.

At one point, however, he came to understand the need for a means of self-designation. What to call himself? Somehow, it seemed important.

A little research. _Names._ Names were means of self-designation, often following from one's genetic bloodline, or _family,_ as the term went. An economical term, he felt.

So what had his family called themselves? Another search of the computer files: _Rok_ had been his family name. All the members in his family had shared this name. It was a good, solid sounding name, and he liked it.

But with that knowledge came another bit of information, more deduced that provided: if there were other people called _Rok,_ that meant there were others related to him—somewhere. But where? Certainly not here.

But if there were others, scattered throughout the cosmos, known by the surname of _Rok_, then simply calling himself that would be insufficient. He needed a way to make his means of self-designation unique, rather like giving a computer file a distinctive name. By what distinctive name would he be known?

If, indeed, he was ever to be known to anyone else, anywhere else, ever.

He found a growing need for the company of others in himself. He didn't really understand the concept of _loneliness,_ as his own company was all he'd ever known, but he was discovering that just his own company was insufficient. He found himself wanting to find someone else to talk to, someone not a computer, but a living being, one who could truly _think_ and _respond._

One thing his unplanned stay on this planet had taught him: be prepared. Besides, it couldn't _hurt_ to have an individual name. So he instructed the computer to begin compiling a list of suitable names for himself.

…_..Agnon_

_Aidus_

_Aldren_

_Amen_

_Athen_

_Aton….._

No, no, no. None of those interested him. Besides, this was taking too long. He didn't have a lot of patience, and, in truth, the rationale for this process was something that made him a little uncomfortable. What, really, would he ever need a _name_ for, anyway? He instructed the computer to narrow the list down to those names suitable for males. Keep this short, and he could get back to matters of surviving.

_Damen_

_Doldren_

_Donen_

_Dorien_

No, no, no. Still nothing. He focused on his peripheral defenses while the names scrolled up the viewscreen. After all, one could never be too careful, on a planet where the carnivores were larger and more powerful than you. The only advantage he had, aside the haven of the destroyed ship, was his brain, and his wits.

_Raben_

_Raden_

_Ragen_

_Ragnar_

_Rodan_

_Robnon_

_Rugin_

Wait. What was that one, there, the fourth one down? Ragnar? _Hm,_ he though, _Ragnar Rok._ Not a bad sounding name. Very well; he would be "Ragnar Rok." In, he told himself with just a twinge of despondency, the unlikelihood of his ever having to use it…

Thus having made a decision, and after having assured himself that his defenses were in place and functioning properly, he retired to his bunk and went to sleep.

In his sleep, he dreamed wistfully about meeting others like himself, but he couldn't imagine what they'd be like. He barely knew what he himself was like, let alone what someone else would be like. But in his dreams, he met people like himself, with the same likes and dislikes, and with whom he could just….talk.

And the loneliness that he was feeling brought forth a new fear: the fear that he would always be alone, would never find anyone else like him. Was he destined to live out his entire life alone?

The fear within him grew.

…

Then the fateful day came when he was out hunting. His ship (though, in truth, he thought of it more as "home" than "ship") could not synthesize all his needs. So on this day, he ventured a little farther than he previously had, his curiosity overcoming his fear.

But now he determined that he'd be unable to make it back home before nightfall. So, in accordance with the teachings of his ship's computer, he found a cave to hole up in, and started a fire, being careful to keep his back to the mountainside.

The first of the pack running predators showed up just before full dark.

He'd already prepared several torches, as well as a supply of throwing rocks, and it was with these he managed to keep the night-running predators at bay. He picked up a torch, and, lighting it, dared to step out just slightly from the rock wall, waving it back and forth, using their fear to keep them away. He was under no illusions as to how he would fair, should they get close enough to where they could use their teeth on him. He, himself, possessed no natural weapons as they did.

It wasn't going well. He'd miscalculated the number in the pack, and had long since exhausted his supply of throwing missiles. He was keeping them at bay, but he was down to his last remaining two torches when something fell from the sky with the speed of a meteor. The predators, who had been about to tear into him, fell back before this new fire from the sky.

Rather than falling straight to the ground, the object slowed and came to a halt right in front of him, hovering momentarily in mid-air.

He stared in amazement. It was a ring, a yellow ring, perfectly sized to fit his own middle finger. _"Ragnar Rok,"_ said a voice in his mind, _"You have the ability to instill great fear. Welcome to the Sinestro Corps."_

…_.._

The Blackest Night was over, the Black Lantern Corps defeated. Earth was beginning to get back to normal, or as normal as it ever got. Lex Luthor had begun his hunt for black power rings, and so far, thankfully, had not had any luck.

The Justice League had reconvened at the Watchtower. They were minus a few members, notably one Dark Knight, and everyone felt the loss.

In addition to the regular core members, they had called in all members, and even invited in the team of Young Justice, since so many of them had functioned as adjuncts to the older, more established heroes.

"All right," began J'onn J'onzz, seated at the head of the table, "Damage report. Anyone?"

"Casualty count in the extremes," Wonder Woman's voice was somber. "It would be hard to imagine a more catastrophic occurrence, this side of a thermonuclear war. We've got thousands dead, in the very least, but at least the resurrected dead seemed to be confined to those possessing powers of some sort or another. Or, or other attributes, such as association with the superhuman community."

"True," interjected Hal Jordan. J'onn J'onzz reflected on how fortunate Earth was, to have not one, not two, but three bona fide Green Lanterns on staff. Of course, Guy Gardner was back on Oa for "retraining" (and he doubted little but that had something to do with Gardner's exposure to the red power ring), but that still left them with two: Hal Jordan and John Stewart. Considering that most sectors had to make do with only one, the Martian Manhunter felt Earth to be especially blessed. Although, considering how completely logical and omniscient the Guardians were, however, he wondered if he should be all that reassured by that fact. "Not all the resurrected actually had super powers, but all were associated with us to one degree or another. That won't make the cleanup any easier, of course; if anything, it'll be worse."

"But if _everyone_ who'd ever died had come back as a Black Lantern, matters would be inestimably worse. Hal? John? Based on what you know, how likely is this sort of thing to happen again?"

John Stewart spoke up, after glancing at Hal. "I think it safe to say, highly unlikely. Nekron was defeated, and sealed back in his dimension. Tactically speaking, it wouldn't make much sense for him to try the same approach again."

"J'onn?" Nightwing spoke up, from his seat by Con-El, Young Justice's Superboy. "There's one thing I hear everybody talking around, but nobody's come out and said it. If all those associated with us were brought back to life by the black power rings, where was-*"

"Batman? You aren't the first to ask that. Well, what of it? Hal, John…would there be some reason for Batman to _not_ have been resurrected along with all the rest?"

"None I can think of. But remember: we misspoke—slightly—earlier when we said that all those who were resurrected were associated with us. Don Hall, the original Dove, wasn't."

"Hm. Were there any others? That anyone knows of? No? We need to find out why Don Hall wasn't restored to life, if that's the word. But I think it safe to say that Don Hall and Batman were nothing alike."

"Don't be so sure. Both were, when push came to shove, people who put their lives on the line to save others."

"But the same could be said of many others who were brought back. The bottom line, as the Earth saying goes, is that, based on what we currently know, there are only two possible reasons why there was no Black Lantern Batman. One, he shared some characteristic with Don Hall, and therefore was not resurrected, or…" He paused. "I'll delegate you into researching that, since you probably knew him better than anyone else." Here, he stopped and gave Wonder Woman a glance; she studiously avoided it. "Unless there's someone here who feels better qualified?" No one else spoke up.

Superboy nudged Nightwing. "_Now_ see what you've gotten us into?" he whispered.

"Oh, shuttup."

…

Mt. Justice: Nightwing was reviewing his files on Batman, what few there were. Batman had always been uneasy about anyone—even a trusted associate—having access to much information on him. Ironic, considering that he had files on a great many people that would've made most government agencies feel like slackers. Grayson smiled slightly. _Bruce? I wonder what that says about you._ Actually, what it said was a no-brainer: knowledge is power. Batman even had an extensive file on the Green Lantern Corps. Not just the Green Lanterns assigned to Earth; the entire _Corps._ Dick wondered how he'd managed _that,_ seeing as how the Guardians were an extraterrestrial organization…

"Dick?" Kid Flash had come up beside him. Nightwing hurriedly closed the files he was perusing, but it was clear, from his demeanor, that Wally hadn't even bothered to look at them.

Of course, Nightwing reminded himself, this _was_ Kid Flash. He could've been examining them for a whole second—anyone else's equivalent of an hour—before he'd spoken up. _Have to tighten up,_ thought Nightwing. _Can't have anybody—even a colleague—sneaking up on me._ Something about that thought rang a subconscious bell, but he didn't pursue it at that time. "Yeah, Wally? What's on your mind?"

"It's this thing with, with Nekron." Kid Flash paused, clearly unsure how to continue. "I mean, those—things, with the black rings—they were our friends. But, but they came back as our worst nightmares. They _killed_ some of us, Dick! I mean, yeah, you can argue they weren't themselves, but, but…." Dick waited for Wally to gather his thoughts. He thought he could see where this was going. "I mean, when we die—are we gonna end up like that? Not with the rings, I mean, but, but…monsters, like they were?"

Grayson thought about his reply. After all, he could tell this was important. And, yeah, it was important to him, too. It was a subject he'd given some thought to. "Wally….I don't think so. What came back to attack us….I can't really believe those were really our friends. I mean, Kal-L? Garth, and all the others in the Titans? Not to mention the Justice League? Those just plain weren't the people we knew. They just weren't. At least, I can't believe that. Remember, Deadman also came back, or at least the man he'd been before he died…but it still wasn't him.

"So, no, I don't think that's what awaits us on the other side, if that's what you're asking."

Wally was visibly relieved. "Thanks, Rob. Uh, I mean, _Nightwing._ Yeah, that's really what I was wanting to know. I—I don't wanna be like that. I mean, even without the heart-eating business, I, I just don't wanna be like…what they were." He paused. "So…what _were_ those things? I mean, they _knew_ stuff about us…"

"Been giving that some thought myself." Nightwing leaned back in his chair. "Best I can come up with is, they were, like, _copies_ of people who'd died. Of course, it was really Nekron talking through them—sorta like ventriloquism, but the knowledge, the information they possessed, about us,…I think it came about as a part of the copying process. Remember, there is such as thing as memory RNA, whereby one person's memories can be transferred to another. Besides, some of the ones who came back had been dead for so long, or died in such ways, that there wouldn't have been much left. The rings _had _to've recreated them, at least, in part—and they recreated them _deliberately _to correspond with our current conception of 'zombies.' But personality wise, those clearly weren't our friends. And really, what we call the _soul_ is more involved with personality than with mere memory. That _is_ what you're asking, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I. I mean, it almost sounded like—well, it _did_ sound like—that when we die, we automatically go to a kind of hell. Nekron's hell. I guess that had me, well, worried."

"Well, just remember: those weren't our friends. They may have looked like our friends, they may have sounded like our friends—but they weren't."

"Thanks, Dick."

….

Ragnar sat, his yellow and black uniform gleaming, on a small asteroid, watching the myriad stars swirl around him. He didn't wonder what there was to fear out there, anymore. He knew.

There was loss of purpose.

He'd been a soldier, but the war was over. He'd caught a few whispers of it on his ring, but had not had the good fortune to actually see combat. A few times, he'd found a planet with intelligent lifeforms on it, and he'd tried to teach them the Lesson of Fear, but most of the time, he didn't feel he'd been very successful. Most of them simply ran away. He guessed he could count that as a kind of victory.

The lesson of hunger is to satisfy the hunger, so that one will not be hungry. The Lesson of Fear is to be strong, to be careful, and, if the need arose, to be merciless, so you do not have to be afraid. Make _them _fear _you._ It was really a very simple message.

And their fear had empowered him. He liked being empowered. It made him strong, so he did not have to fear. One had to look after one's own needs, after all, even as he went about the cosmos spreading his gospel of fear.

Where to go now? He wasn't sure. But surely, surely inspiration would come to him.

….

"So…whadda_you_ think?" John Stewart asked Hal Jordan. The meeting had been adjourned, and the two had left, moving on down the circular hallway towards the rec room. Both of them felt the need for a snack.

"'Bout what?"

"Why hasn't Batman come back? I mean, why didn't he?"

Hal sipped his coffee. Due to the wide variety of people the commissary served, and the fact that it was located in outer space, a hostile environment that unnerved a good many people, the necessity existed to make certain accommodations: the equipment was above par. The coffee was just like he liked it: hot, black, and stout enough to stand a spoon up in without it touching the sides of the cup. Stewart's question had been one he'd thought about, even before it had come up in the general assembly. "Honestly? I don't have a clue. I really don't see any similarity between Batman and Don Hall." He paused, sipping his coffee. "Though I think most people are of the opinion that he wasn't resurrected for the best of reasons: he's not dead."

"But we saw the body."

"We saw _a_ body." Again a pause. "Bruce is a survivor. I can think of a lot of reasons why a guy like Batman—or any of us, for that matter—might find it convenient to fake his death. Can't you?"

"Yeah, but it still seems like he should've left like, a forwarding address or something. I mean, suppose we needed him for something? Or _he_ needed _us?_" The two moved away from the countertop and sat at a table over by a large viewscreen that gave the illusion of a window. The stars they were sworn to protect glistened and gleamed outside.

"I think the whole point of faking his own death—if that's what happened, you understand, was to get away from all that. As for him needing us, I can't think of anybody who could take care of themselves better than Bruce. Still, I admit, it's a mystery. He'd have to have gone to a lot of trouble—probably not all of it strictly legal—to have made up the whole thing, fake corpse, etc."

"Well, it's just—*" But at that moment, John's comment was interrupted by a chime from Hal's ring. Startled, Jordan pulled up his ring up in front of his face. "Uhm, yes?"

A green hologram sprang from the ring, showing the head and shoulders of an incredibly cute blond haired girl with short hair, elfin features and pointed ears._"Hal? This is Arisia."_ Jordan winced, slightly. He and the blond GL known as Arisia had…a bit of a history. Not exactly a pleasant one, either. He still regretted his part in it. But they were at least cordial, towards each other.

Many years ago, during a shakeup in the Green Lantern Corps, a young Arisia Raab, then about a biological age of fourteen or fifteen, had followed Hal to Earth, along with some other Green Lanterns, forming a kind of mini-corps. Hal hadn't been aware of it, but Arisia had had a bit of a crush on him, and had subconsciously used her power ring to artificially age her into a young adult. Certain circumstances had happened, and they'd developed mutual feelings for each other, becoming, for a time, an item. But what Hal had forgotten (or, rather, as he told himself, rather severely, what he'd _allowed_ himself to forget) was that, although biologically an adult, Arisia simply hadn't had the life experiences that produce true maturity.

So, in his own short-sighted way, he'd _become_ one of those life experiences. True, they'd remained friends, and for that he was thankful, but he still wanted to kick his own ass, sometimes. For a Green Lantern, that isn't impossible. "Hal Jordan here. What's going on, Arisia?"

"_We followed the trail of a Sinestro Corps member right into your back yard. We lost the trail around Jupiter—the radiation belts interfered with our rings—but there's no outgoing trail. That means he's still there. Just thought you should know."_

"Thanks, Arisia. Yeah, that is good to know. Last thing we need is a leftover Sinestro-er mucking things up. We'll be on our guard." He started to open his mouth to close the conversation, when the blond-headed girl's ring-hologram spoke up again. _"How've you been, Hal?"_ There was an expression of concern on her elfin features. It caught him off-guard.

_But then, she always was good at doing that,_ he thought with a private smile. "Oh, pretty good. The Black Lanterns hit us hard. Earth's a mess. Lotta damage control. But that's what we're here for."

"_Yeah, I know about the Black Lanterns, that was awful. And I heard that Earth seemed to catch the worst of it…but Hal, how have __you__ been?"_ As before, the question caught him totally off guard. "Huh?"

"_Are __you__ okay? I mean, I heard a lot of people got killed, and all about the destruction. I mean…"_ She trailed off, not really sure how to put into words what she was trying to say.

But he could guess at least some of what she was trying to say:_ Are you hurt? Did you lose anyone close to you?_ And perhaps something he felt he really had no right to hear: _Can I help you?_ "Yeah, Arisia, I'm okay. No major bones broken. But we're all licking our wounds in one way or another. Many of us lost people. You remember Bob? The reporter?"

"_Yes? Don't tell me he-*"_

"I'm afraid so. He had a family, too. Of course, the league is setting them up, but no way can we replace their loss. I," he paused, emotion echoing in his voice through his self-control, "I, I don't even like to think what his kids are going through."

"_That's terrible. Those poor people. Can anything be done?"_

Hal rubbed his eyes tiredly through his mask. "We're doing all we can. But, of course…we can't do everything. Sometimes…sometimes I feel like we can't do anything." Now where had that come from? He hadn't intended to get this deep with his former girlfriend.

"_You know you do more than you realize, Hal. Just because you keep on doing it means you know, on some level. But you need to take care of yourself, too. You can't help others if you wear yourself out, and I know you have a tendency to do that."_

"Yes, mother."

"_I'll 'yes, mother' you, comet-brain, if you don't behave. Well, I have to go, but I'll be back through this way soon. Maybe we should go by and see Bob's family? If they remember me, I mean."_

"I'm sure they do, 'Risia. You're hard to forget." _As I know from experience._

The green-tinted hologram springing up from his ring stuck her tongue out at him. _"Oh, do behave. But I do have to go. But promise me that you'll call me if you need anything, okay?"_

He sighed. "Okay. I promise." With his fingers crossed behind his back.

"_Good. Now uncross your fingers and say that again."_

"Arisia!"

"_I __know__ you, Hal. Now do it!"_

"Okay, okay. See?" He held up both sets of fingers into the green glow. "No crossed fingers." John Stewart chuckled.

After she'd closed the connection, Hal noticed John's smirk. "Still something there, Hal."

"John, I'd…appreciate it if you _never_ said that again. I basically took advantage of a minor, or the equivalent of. That's something I can _never_ allow myself to forget. I just hope she can…heal."

"Sounds like she's coping well. She's seeing Sodam Yat these days, isn't she?"

"Yeah. Good man. One of the best GL's we've got. I couldn't have picked a better choice for her myself."

"Well, anyway, getting back on topic…"

Deep within the swirling gas clouds of the largest planet in this solar system, Ragnar watched carefully as the green ones flew overhead. He didn't know for a fact who they were, having never encountered such beings before, but he did know three things right off: one, they were intelligent beings. Two, they wielded power rings like he did, albeit those rings seemed to work on a slightly different principle. And three, they were hunting him.

He normally took extreme displeasure at being hunted, but these were the first intelligent beings he'd ever seen. The golden one in particular attracted his interest: he'd never seen anything quite like her before. And these intelligent beings used communication of some sort. So maybe simply killing them wasn't the way to go.

But he still had to discourage them from following him. So he cast around for a suitable trap.

There: an asteroid belt not far from his current location. That would do.

Swiftly, he teleported himself to the asteroid belt. The green hunters, alerted by his usage of his power ring, followed him in, just like he'd planned. Perhaps they felt secure in their numbers. He smiled a feral grin. He could do something about that.

But they weren't totally ignorant of tactics, either. The golden one moved into the asteroid belt, while the other two hung back, no doubt ready to charge in once the quarry had been located, and the trap sprung.

So he blasted her from behind, just like she'd no doubt expected him to, and immediately moved to another position.

"Arisia!" Salnor K called out, as he and Vol moved forward to her aid. Their rings examined her unconscious form; she was unharmed. But where was-*

And Ragnar obligingly blasted them from the concealment of a large asteroid, where he'd been watching.

But they were ready, and quickly threw up forcefields, returning fire. But in so doing, they were distracted, and didn't see the large asteroid he'd set tumbling towards their position moments before. Even as they trained their rings on the approaching threat, they again got hit from behind by beams of yellow energy.

Floating there in space, Ragar examined the unconscious forms before him. Two of them were very strange, completely unlike anything in his admittedly limited experience, but they followed the basic model: one head, two arms, two legs. But the golden one…

She was unlike anything in his experience. Instinctively, he knew she was different from him, different on some fundamental level he couldn't identify. And she used communication. That was interesting. That was very interesting.

Normally, he'd just kill those who were hunting him, no matter what they were, but, in this instance, he stayed his hand. Perhaps he'd taught them his Lesson of Fear, and they would no longer hunt him. And perhaps, since they used communication, spread the word that he was not to be hunted.

But the golden one still fascinated him. He needed to know more. So he brought his ring up to hers, touched the symbols together, and _willed_ a connection between the two. There. Now he had a secure tap on her ring's communication system, especially when she was afraid. Now he'd be able to hear and see what she was hearing and seeing. Good.

Perhaps, in time, he might return, to see if they'd learned their Lesson of Fear. If they hadn't, he could always teach it again.

Now where to?

….

Superman caught up with Wonder Woman in the commissary. "Diana? How are you holding up, these days?"

" I'm fine, Clark." But her manner was reserved, guarded.

He put a hand on her shoulder. She probably wouldn't have tolerated such a gesture from anybody else, but this was Clark. "I know you and Bruce had….well, calling it a 'relationship' is misleading, but…I know you two were more than just friends."

Diana Prince swallowed hard. Yes, she'd come to feel that way, even though she knew in advance that it could never be. Bruce Wayne, aka Batman, would never have allowed himself to be involved in anything even remotely resembling a romantic entanglement, especially not with a colleague. As he'd himself had told her, he didn't just have issues, he had a complete subscription. Maybe more than one. "Yes, well….that was then, this is now, as the saying goes."

"You don't believe he's really dead, either, do you?" He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Of course he's not," she said, just as if Batman were standing right in front of them. "Why, this is the very thing he'd do. The very thing. The only thing that surprises me is, he waited this long." The two had moved down the line, and now took their trays to a nearby empty table.

"But he still hasn't come back, or given any indication he might still be alive. Do you think he's okay?"

Diana opened her mouth to say _of course he's okay,_ but shut it before so much as a whisper emerged. That was the rub, wasn't it? The onslaught of the Black Lanterns had brought pretty much every hero in existence out to combat them. Even some villains had cooperated with the League, to defend their mutual world. But where was Bruce? "I don't know," she finally said.

Superman reached across the table, putting his hand on hers. "Diana…I know this is…hurting you. If you should, you know, want to talk about anything…"

"Thanks, Kal, but I, I really couldn't talk to you about this sort of thing."

"Actually, I was thinking about my mother." He chuckled. "After raising me, there's not a lot she hasn't heard."

Diana smiled. "I couldn't trouble her with all this."

"She regards the rest of the members of the League—and a good many others associated with us—as being part of her extended family. She might even be a little upset if you _didn't_ confide in her."

"Well, I'll think about it." Pause. Then she smiled. "You know, Clark, I know you think the world of your mother, and you've every right to, but I've always wondered: don't you ever worry about being labeled a 'mama's boy'?"

"Nope." He forked a bite of meatloaf into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "I can be a mama's boy if I want. After all, I'm Superman."

….

Arisia regained consciousness, moaning slightly. Vol "stood" over her, floating in empty space, a concerned expression on his alien face. "Thank the Guardians you're okay, Captain. We were becoming concerned."

"Yeah, well, thanks, guys, but I'm a little tougher than I look." She winced, putting her hand to her head. She could certainly use an aspirin, but the rings couldn't synthesize that. They _could_ accelerate and augment her natural recuperative abilities, however, and she now used hers to do just that. "Where'd that bastard go?"

Salnor K spread his hands in an expression of puzzlement. "No idea. But I wonder why he didn't kill us all. That's the usual Sinestro Corps modus operandi, isn't it? After all, we were helpless…"

"Good question." She brought up her ring again. "Hal? S'me again. That Sinestro Corps member is trickier than we thought. He got the drop on us. And we got zip on him."

"_You alright, Arisia? Do __you__ need anything?"_

"Ah, we're fine. But this one's different, Hal. He's not ruled by his fears, and he's actually competent, for a change. We're going to go back looking for him, soon as we recharge our rings. But we're still trying to puzzle out why he didn't kill us when he had the chance."

"_I'm eternally thankful he didn't. Maybe you could use some backup?"_

"I think we got this. You've got your hands full with Earth right now. Don't worry about us. If we need backup, we'll send to Oa for it. But you do need to be on the alert. We're still in your solar system, and, the way these things go, he'll probably head straight for Earth. So heads up." She closed the connection, and addressed the other two. "Okay, let's go see if we can find this son of a _grock_."

…..

Ragnar scouted around the solar system he found himself in. It was certainly picturesque, he thought. Nothing at all like the drab little system he came from.

Although Ragnar didn't know it, he was one of the very few members of the infamous Sinestro Corps to have actually escaped indoctrination by Sinestro or one of his subordinates. Therefore he really knew very little about the war he found himself fighting in. He knew his ring was fueled by fear, and that he could use its power to create objects of solid light, or beams of destructive energy. However, he really had very little knowledge regarding those whom he was supposed to fight.

His first real contact with a truly intelligent species, at least one that he could consider an equal, had been the green ones behind him. Part of him wondered if he shouldn't have stayed and tried to talk to them, but a much larger, more rational part of him, told that part to be silent. Other beings were to be feared. They could hurt you. Why take a chance?

The simple truth was, he was lonely, even though he didn't know the word for what he was feeling.

His ring noted a large concentration of electromagnetic waves emanating from the third planet of this solar system, a colorful world of blue and white. His curiosity aroused, he moved to investigate. Almost at once, he noted the large structure in orbit around the blue and white sphere.

Fascinating! These beings traveled through space, and built large constructs there! His awe increased as he began to see _resemblences_ between this construct and his wrecked ship. Could these beings be related to him, somehow?

He had to know more. There was simply no way he could possibly leave this star system without knowing more about these beings, who built such artifacts, and what sort of beings they were.

But of course he would be careful. There was no point in exposing himself to any unwarranted danger. So, with this in mind, he began to move in closer, all the while keeping the planet itself between the structure and himself…

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: The Light

The Gold Corps: The Light

…

_Insert standard disclaimers here. Now enough of that crap. Let's get on with our story._

…_.._

Nightwing's throwing star knocked Weather Wizard's wand from his hand. It didn't even hit the ground; in a nanosecond, Kid Flash had dashed in, grabbed it, and ran up the side of a building with it, tossing it down a handy chimney before the villain could activate the security override built into the wand.

Superboy charged Black Adam, who stood confidently, and slightly disdainfully, awaiting the futile blow. However, none of his magical powers included precognition, telepathy or eyes in the back of his head; hence, the combined blow of Conner in front, and Miss Martian from behind, was enough to ring even his chimes. Aqualad's hard water baton, swung by his own considerable strength, and combined with Kid Flash's tornado haymaker, slammed Adam into a nearby building.

Nightwing rounded on the Joker. "I seem to recall having danced this dance before," he remarked, while sizing up his opponent. The Joker was one adversary one should _never_ take for granted.

"Indeed," replied the Clown Prince of Crime, grinning his usual grin, "and if it hadn't been for your little friends, you'd be bird on a stick. Or should I say, a _blade."_ Thus saying, he produced a wickedly-sharp switchblade and slashed viciously at the air where Nightwing had been standing moments before.

But Dick was ready for him, vaulting back, bringing up his own batons to deflect the shurikens the Joker had thrown in almost the same instant, and tossing his own knockout disk straight at the grinning villain, catching him full in the chest.

The Joker began coughing and gasping as the gas began to take effect. "Whassamatter, bat boy? Can't…take…a…joke?" And fell face down in the street.

_I took you, didn't I?-_thought Nightwing, but then carefully checked the downed maniac. It wouldn't be the first time the Joker had played possum. But he was really out. "Okay, people, I believe that's a wrap. Count off." Each member of the Team sounded off, securing the prisoners, even as the police moved in to take custody. The foiled robbery of the diamond exchange had been invigorating, but Dick couldn't help but think matters weren't over yet. But maybe that was just his own pessimistic nature at work.

"Nightwing?" Miss Martian approached him, while he stood to one side as the police cuffed and secured the prisoners. "Something you should know."

"Mm. Yes?" His attention was riveted on the villains. In the past, this had been just the time for one or more to make a break for it, since, right now, they only had the regular police to deal with.

"We're being watched."

"We are?" His attention jerked back to her. "By who? And from where?"

"Can't really tell," answered the green girl, "But we are. I can sense another mind somewhere nearby, watching us."

"Hm." Nightwing rubbed the side of his face. "No idea where it could be coming from?" She shook her head, her red hair waving in ripples up and down her back. "Alright. Well, be on the lookout. Maybe you can pick up something. I'll warn the others to watch, too."

…

Ragnar watched from concealment, an expression of puzzlement on his blue face.

The bipeds had succeeded in defeating those who had attacked the others, true, there was no mistaking that. But he couldn't figure out _why_ they'd do a thing like that.

In essence, they'd actually _prevented_ those around them from learning the Lesson of Fear, had chosen, instead, to keep the majority of them in ignorance. But what could possibly be gained-*

Of course! Ragnar wanted to slap his head. It was all so simple! These were the Alphas of their herd. They were charged with protecting the younger and weaker members of the herd from danger. In return, they got their choice of breeding partners. Naturally. It all made sense to him now.

Of course, the whole notion of _breeding_—a process with which he was familiar, from studying the predators and other animals back on his native world—struck him as being very unsafe. Inserting a body part into something else? That sounded like a good way to lose a body part. But he presumed they must have adapted some coping mechanism for that, otherwise the herds would only last one or two generations.

And, importantly to him, these beings seemed very similar to the golden one who'd hunted him. Now, in the past, what he'd done, when confronted with a new form of life, was to kill a specimen or two and dissect it, examine it thoroughly, making sure he understood all about its strengths and weaknesses. The problem with that, in this situation, was that, aside from the gross physical similarities, all these beings were different. These beings, for example, wielded no power rings, yet they had powers, in at least one case, very similar to those who did. Also, they were all of different colors…he couldn't help but think there had to be a good reason to account for the different types.

The green one now—evidently sporting that same "differentness" that had so caught his attention in the other one, the one with the green power ring—she was obviously in a subordinate position to the others, or at least seemed to be. Still one of the Alphas, however. But she was female. In his experience, Alphas were always male.

Also, he couldn't really discern what exactly they'd been fighting over. The attackers had seemed to focus on some small, glittering rocks. What was so valuable about them? They were obviously inedible.

But then he shrugged. Well. They were alien. They just did things differently, that was all.

But his interest in this strange new world was mounting. Aside from some minor changes in skin coloration, he could pass as one of these _humans,_ as they called themselves. And their language, while unfamiliar to him, didn't sound all that hard to learn.

So he willed his ring to alter his appearance in keeping with the dominant species he saw (he had to choose between the brown one with gills in his neck, or the green flying girl, but finally chose the pinkish color, simply because it seemed more predominate), he moved out of his concealment place and joined the ranks of the citizens who thronged the streets.

He got a few mild stares at first, as his yellow and black uniform drew people's attention, but most just shrugged ever so slightly and went back to whatever they were doing, completely unaware of the predator in their midst.

His attention was drawn to a large glass enclosure behind which were several monitors, all displaying what was apparently a female holding a stick, standing in front of a large bridge. _"…we now join Karen Kindall on site at San Francisco, with our latest update on the recent crisis. Karen?"_

"_Yes, John. The people of San Francisco are still rebuilding both their homes and their lives from the recent, uhm, attacks by the…reanimated. There are reports of some survivalists still hiding in the mountains, although, in all fairness, it has to be admitted that this time, they might have a point. The president has pledged full support to the rebuilding of every community that was affected, but the process will take time. In the meantime, I'm here live with none other than Superman himself. Superman? Can you tell us anything about our recent troubles?"_ Hm, thought Ragnar. This was interesting, even as his ring translated the thought patterns into speech he could understand. What did the female mean by "reanimated"?

The large man in blue and red was speaking, his face and stance relaxed._"Only that they're over, Ms. Kindall. The entity responsible for the horror we all went through has been locked away in his own dimension, a prison that held him quite securely for billions of years, and which we are confident will hold him for another hundred billion years to come._

"_The Justice League stands with the president in promising whatever aid and support we can give to those families whose lives have been impacted by recent events. We, in the League, did not escape unscathed ourselves. So we will lend whatever help we can to those in need."_

"_Thank you, Superman._" The scene changed to another viewpoint, with another speaker. Ragnar pondered the puzzling exchange he'd just heard. Reanimated? Whatever could that mean?

His attention was drawn to a small metal box on the streetcorner, evidently one designed to dispense some sort of printed paper. That, too, seemed strange to him. What need would there be for such, when surely everyone was able to access everything they needed via more direct and more easily understood media such as he'd just witnessed?

However, they were alien…

He aimed his ring at one of the printed pages, willing it to translate the printed message on it into useful information for him. Hm. Apparently, everyone here had recently suffered through a nightmare scenario: many of their dead had come back to life, and, in many cases, killed many of them. As before, with so much else on this strange world, that made no sense to him. How could the dead come back to life? The dead couldn't live again. Wasn't that what it meant to be _dead_? He had to know more.

But right then, his stomach rumbled. It had been a while since he'd eaten. Now. How to acquire food on this strange world?

He noticed many humans going into a small establishment from which wafted very pleasing smells indeed. His stomach growled all the more.

Inside, there were many humans seated at small tables, eating various…things. Ragnar didn't see anything remotely like a fire, such as he'd prepared food over, back on his home world, or a dispensing slot, such as his ship's computer used to provide him with food. Instead there were people standing behind some sort of low table, with lines of humans waiting to speak to them, giving them rectangular green pieces of paper or using some sort of rectangular rigid plastic card, in return for which, they received a ration of what was apparently food. At least, he guessed it was; they were eating it. He stood in the line, his ring translating the menu overhead, wondering what in the universe a "taco" was.

"Yes, sir? Can I take your order, sir?" The black-clad female standing in front of a metal box was speaking to him. With a start, he brought himself back to reality. Order? What did she mean by that?

But no matter. He'd identified some food items behind her, on a sloping shelf. Using his ring, he simply levitated several of them, and brought them into his grasp.

For her part, the cashier was puzzled at first, by this oddly dressed individual. Yellow and black? The way he wore it, it almost looked like some sort of…

Then the strange being lifted his hand, and a golden ring upon his middle finger glowed brightly, tendrils of visible energy reaching behind her into the racks, levitating several burritos over past her, and into the stranger's grip. "Sir! You can't do that, sir!" He just gave her a peculiar look, as though he either didn't understand what she was saying, or didn't care. She sidled over to her coworker, and whispered. "Call the Justice League. I think he's one of theirs."

….

Nightwing was back to reviewing his data on Batman (which still wasn't much) when the call came through. He touched the earpiece almost absentmindedly, and was startled to hear Wonder Woman's voice on the other end. She normally didn't make that much use of the communication systems. That she now did was indicative that something major was in the works. "_Nightwing? Wonder Woman here. We've a report of a 1401 in progress, at a Taco Bell not four miles from you. The report said someone in a yellow and black outfit stole some food items. At last report, he's still there._

"_All League members are busy. Can you and your team take care of this?"_

"A 1401? Minor theft by metahuman? And that costume sounds like Sinestro Corps. But…that's not their usual MO, is it?"

"_No, it's not. But I've received corroborating reports from Green Lantern. Seems he's had reports of a rogue Sinestro corps member seen in our vicinity too. If so, whoever it is, is highly dangerous. Think you can at least stall him until a GL squad gets here?"_

"I'm sure we can do better than that." Nightwing suppressed a small twinge of indignation, that the Amazon princess should think so little of his team. True, they were young, but they were getting some heavy experience…already, he was planning an assault: physical attack from more than one side, as a distraction, brainzap by Miss Martian, and/or magical attack by Zatanna—and maybe get take out on the way home.

"_Don't get cocky. These yellow lanterns gave the GL's a run for their money. And though we've only had reports of one, there could easily be others. So be careful. Remember, they're killers. Watchtower out."_

…_.._

Ragnar was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he'd made a _horrible_ mistake. Whatever these things were, they were just this side of inedible. Yet the humans ate them, and seemed to like them. He couldn't figure that. He finally had to discard the remains of his repast in an isolated cavern, in the secluded wooded area where he'd chosen to go to, so as to eat without distractions. But he'd eaten enough so that he no longer felt hungry, and that, after all, was the purpose of eating.

Rather than flying, he walked over a low ridge and was startled to see some immature humans running about just behind some sort of building. They were cavorting on some oddly shaped steel bars, and swinging back and forth on some seats slung from chains attached to a framework. Was this how the humans of this world taught their young the Lesson of Fear? But he sensed no fear from these young humans. His curiosity aroused, he moved closer. Some of the children closest to him stopped what they were doing and watched him, not sure what to make of him.

One little girl came up to him—actually came up to him!—a complete stranger!—and eyed him up and down. "Hello," she said. "Who're you?" His ring translated her words.

_Who're you?_ Request for self-designation. They wanted to know his _name._ "I am Ragnar. Ragnar Rok."

Again she looked him up and down. Then, "Are you a superhero?"

"I do not know that word."

"You know. Somebody who does good things for people."

"What is 'good'?"

She gave him a most peculiar look. "You know. Good things, like helping people. Isn't that what you do?"

Well, he thought, in a way, it was. "Yes. I teach the Lesson of Fear to all who will learn."

"The Lesson of Fear?" Her expression said she really didn't understand.

"Yes. I teach others to be afraid, so that they will not have to die." He tried to keep the message simple; perhaps, once she was able to comprehend the matter, he could begin to teach her the Lesson. But until she could understand, there would be no point.

She was looking at him oddly. "Have _you_ ever been afraid?"

"Yes. I am always afraid. That is how I survive." Surely, she could understand that.

"So...you teach people to be afraid? All the time?"

"Yes." He was beginning to become impatient.

"Then what?"

The question startled him. "What do you mean?"

"What do you do about being afraid?"

"You…you become strong. Then you have less reason to fear. Then you can…survive."

She scratched her head, obviously trying to understand. Then, "I think I see. You show people what to do when they're afraid, right?"

Well, he'd never actually thought of it like that but…"Basically. I teach them to use fear to protect themselves."

"Oh! So you're a teacher! Now I get it!" She smiled up at him, came up and took him by the arm. "C'mon, you gotta meet my friends." And she led him over to the group of immature humans that had been cavorting on the steel bars and the swinging things. "Hey, this is Mr. Ragnar Rok. He's a teacher."

But before anyone could say anything, a new voice spoke up, coming from around the corner of the building. An older human was approaching. "Kids? Who's this?"

The girl who had first approached him led him up to the adult. "Ms. Kendricks, this is Mr. Ragnar Rok. He's a teacher, just like you."

The adult human looked suspiciously at Ragnar. He could tell she was afraid of him, but not in the usual way. Her fear seemed to have another element to it, a fear for the immature ones around them. Although he couldn't really tell what she was thinking, it seemed like she was afraid he had done or was about to do something to one of them. "So…Ragnar, is it? Do you live around here?"

"No," he said, his ring translating both his words and the human's, simultaneously, "I live very far from here."

"Where are you from?"

He turned and pointed up at the sky overhead. The stars were not visible, but he could sense them, even in this brightness of day. "I come from very far away. Many light-years away. I don't know the name of the place where I am from."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! So you're a superhero, then!" Again that word. What could it possibly mean? "Well, we all appreciate all the help you and the others did for us, what with…what happened recently." She glanced, a bit nervously, it seemed to him, at one of the immature males in the group that had collected around them. "I'm sure Tommy is glad someone like you was there to save him." The little boy was very quiet, hanging back from the others, and Ragnar could sense a cold cloud of fear hanging over him, a fear that had a touch of something Ragnar had never encountered. It was more than mere fear, although, before now, he couldn't have imagined anything more important than fear.

_Honesty._ "I did nothing. I have only recently arrived here, on your world, and I am trying to understand it."

The adult smiled. "Well, even so, we all are grateful for all the things you and the others did. Tommy…." And here, her voice trailed off, for reasons Ragnar found completely inexplicable. She obviously wished to say something, but something prevented her from doing so. Something to do with Tommy.

And now, with a singing sound only he could hear, his ring was telling him something extraordinary, something he'd never encountered before. It was so unusual to his experience that it had taken him a moment to even realize it was there. His attention attracted to the boy, he now could tell that this "Tommy" wasn't afraid at all. No, what he was feeling wasn't fear. Not really.

Tommy _wanted_ to die.

Ragnar stared in open-mouthed astonishment. But there was no mistake. Tommy wasn't hanging back because he was afraid. He wasn't keeping to himself because of fear. He was wrapped in a cloud of personal misery. Something had happened to make this boy want to die.

The female was speaking again, now becoming more emotionally distant. Ragnar barely heard her through his astonishment. "We, all of us, appreciate all the help you and others gave us, but the rules state you can't just show up on the playground, you know. You have to go in through the front entrance…" Ragnar paid her no attention. All of a sudden, she wasn't important.

Instead, he went over to the silent boy, and knelt down in front of him. Tommy stared at him with unseeing eyes. No, that was inaccurate. Tommy saw him. He just didn't care. Nothing mattered. It was almost as though he'd _burned out_ his fear.

"Sir! Mr. Ragnar, sir! I said, I'll have to ask you to-*"

What happened next surprised everybody, including, and perhaps most of all, Ragnar himself. Ragnar placed his hand—the same one with the yellow power ring—upon Tommy's head…and _absorbed_ the child's grief, horror, fear and loss.

_Images cascaded through Ragnar's mind: Tommy and his mother quietly eating dinner. Tommy's father had to work late, but he'd be in later, and his mother had saved him some pot roast._

_But then there was a knock on the door. Startled, his mother answered it—and screamed, as the reanimated corpse that had been Tommy's father shuffled its way into the house. "C'mon, Marjorie. Don't tell me you didn't save something for me, your loving husband? You know how hungry I get, at the end of a long day." Tommy stared, frozen in horror, as the monster ripped his mother's heart out, and ate it. "And Tommy-boy," the rotting thing said, blood still dripping down its ruin of a face, "come to daddy. I brought you something from work…and you have something I need, too." It both was and was not his father's voice._

_A jumble of images. Costumed beings crashing into the house, beams of light from one of them blasting the blasphemy that had been his father out of the house. Confusion, then more costumed ones taking him somewhere else, someplace where someone told him he'd be "safe."_

_That someone couldn't know it was way too late for "safe."_

And in the next instant, the connection was broken, and an astonished Ragnar found himself kneeling in front of the little boy. Tears were running down the child's face, and he clutched at Ragnar as though the yellow lantern was the only spot of light in his universe. _Someone who understood._

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: The Darkness

The Gold Corps: Chapter 3: The Darkness

"_Hal? Arisia here. We've tracked that renegade Sinestro corps member to your world, just like I expected. But we lost the trail. For some reason, we can't seem to pinpoint him."_

"It's alright, Arisia. We've had some reports of a guy wielding a yellow power ring down here in Happy Harbor. We're tracking him now, but you were right: he's not your standard Sinestro corps member. There've been no reports of widespread destruction, such as we'd normally expect. We have operatives in the area looking for him."

"_I don't have to tell you to be careful."_

"I know, and we are. If things heat up—and they very easily could—I'm sure John and I can handle it. Do you plan on sticking around, to see?"

"_We were charged with bringing in this rogue, Hal. Even if he's done no damage, being a Sinestro corps member means he probably will. We'll hang around in the solar system. I don't doubt that you and John Stewart could handle one lone yellow lantern, but…."_

"A little backup never hurt. Yeah, I understand. But our operatives still haven't managed to actually locate him. So….I guess we'll see. Jordan out."

…

Ragnar flew over the city. What had happened had puzzled and mystified him greatly.

He'd always thought that his purpose in life was to teach others to be afraid, so as to make them stronger. To be strong meant you were less likely to die. And that was a desirable goal. Wasn't it?

So just what had happened back there, at that "school" thing, anyway?

The boy, Tommy, had suffered such horror that he'd closed off the world around him, had actually _wanted_ to die, because that meant he wouldn't have to deal with the horrific memories he had. But somehow, Ragnar had _absorbed_ that horror, those memories, in such a way that Tommy could feel again.

So did that make him a "superhero"? He still didn't know what those words meant.

He was acutely conscious of his ignorance in these matters. The ring could tell him many things, but there were some things it just didn't know about. So he willed his ring to locate a source of knowledge, mentally berating himself for not having done so before.

Immediately, several arrows appeared in mid-air. One, a small one, led back to the building he'd just left. But a much larger one pointed him towards a larger building, one with three levels. A sign out front read, "Public Library." Perhaps he could get some answers here.

He landed just in front of the main doors, and walked in. As before, several people stopped and stared at him, but only momentarily. He went up to the front desk. "Yes, sir?" said the female behind the desk, "can I help you?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes. I would like to understand some words and terms I've heard."

"Okay, " she said, "That would be the reference section…right over here." And she led him to a large shelf with many hardcopy books in it. His ring translated that these were a way in which the humans stored knowledge. It seemed inefficient to him, but his was not to question how they did things here. As it was, it should prove to be helpful. "Here you go." And she handed him a thick book with "Webster's Collegiate Dictionary" on the hard front cover. "There's a table right over here. Since this is a reference, you can't check it out, but you're welcome to read it here." And she led him to a small table with some chairs in front of it.

Finally! He now had a source of information about this very strange world, a world where the dead came back to life and young boys made themselves not feel. His ring translated the words in the book, although he was beginning to pick up some of the spoken and written words without its help.

Alright, he thought, let me see….going in alphabetical order: "bad: not ethically or morally acceptable." There were a lot more terms and explanations, but most made little to no sense to him. But this one raised more questions. What were "ethics"? What were "morals"? So he looked those up…

Meanwhile, Nightwing's team had followed the yellow lantern's trail to the school. "You say someone answering to this description came through here?"

"Yes, and I don't know exactly what he did, but he seemed to have helped one of our children. Tommy Walker. Poor kid witnessed his mother killed by one of those horrible zombies, he was virtually catatonic. But somehow, this man—and I don't know how—did something to bring him out of his shell. He's crying nonstop now, but that's a huge improvement. He's at least recognizing the outside world now. Our school psychologist thinks he'll recover, in time. Why? Is this man wanted or something?"

"We're still trying to puzzle that out, ourselves, ma'am. But we know he's not one of us, and so we need to find him to ask him some questions." And put him into custody, but Nightwing saw no reason to add that. His mind was awhirl with what he'd just heard. None of it made any sense to him. But he knew better than to reveal to the principal that the person he was referring to was wanted by the law. With anyone else, any other type of villain, it wouldn't have been such a problem, but Sinestro Corps members fed on fear. The more fear, the stronger they became. And they were already strong enough to require the attention of the star-spanning Green Lantern Corps… "You're sure he didn't hurt anyone? No property damage or anything?"

The principal shook her head. "Nope. Not a thing. He just showed up out of the blue, and seemed to zero in on Tommy. Naturally, Ms. Kendricks, the teacher on duty at the time, told him he couldn't just come on to the playground like that, but she said it was like he didn't understand all that. But if what she told us, from what he said, is true, that may not be that strange; he did say he was from another world, another planet, and had just arrived."

"Did you see which way he went?"

"No. He just took off flying. I wasn't out there, but no-one seems to've made any note of which direction he took."

"Is Tommy here? Could we see him?"

"Of course. He's right down here, in the infirmary. His worker is on her way here to pick him up, though." And she led them down the hallway. "He's right in here."

Nightwing, Miss Martian, and Kid Flash were ushered into a small waiting area. After checking their credentials, the nurse led them to a room in the back, where a young boy sat on a cot, tears running down his face, his breath coming in hitches.

Nightwing knelt in front of him. "Tommy? I'm Nightwing, and this is Miss Martian. Could we ask you a few questions?" Tommy sniffled in reply, nodding. M'Gann sat down beside him on the small cot, putting her arm around him. "You were outside playing when a man wearing a yellow costume came by, weren't you?"

Sniffle. "Y-yes."

Nightwing kept his voice soft and low. "What did he do to you, Tommy?"

"He…he. I, I dunno. He did something. It was like he…took something from me. Something bad. He kept something away. I still have bad thoughts, but, but…I'm better now. He—he _understood_. I, I think he'd lost his mom and dad, too."

Nightwing looked up at Megan. _Do you sense anything? Did this guy do anything to hurt him?_

Miss Martian shook her head. _No. What I'm sensing…Tommy had locked himself away, because the memories were too painful for him. The poor kid saw his mother murdered by a zombie, a Black Lantern. He didn't want to remember that. But this…this that happened…it brought him out of the shell he'd built around himself. He'll still have horrific memories, but now he can…feel again._

Dick turned back to Tommy. "Tommy? This is important. Did this man have a yellow ring on his finger?"

Tommy shook his head, even as more tears made their way down his face. "No. It wasn't yellow. Wasn't yellow at all.

"It was gold, a golden ring."

….

"Well, that got us exactly nowhere," muttered Wally, as they came out into the open, Nightwing mounting his cycle, with the other two racing alongside him.

"It makes no sense. Why would a freakin' _Sinestro Corps_ guy actually stop and _help_ someone? Aren't they supposed to be the very _definition_ of 'bad guys'?" Kid Flash sounded as confused as Nightwing felt.

"So I've always heard. I mean, I guess it's possible this one's different, but it's highly, highly unlikely. As far as I know, they're all trained to inflict the maximum amount of fear they can, in any way they can. And there've been no reports of any metahuman cutting loose on civilians or anything, like you'd normally expect." He paused, frowning beneath his helmet. "Maybe this was, like, an accident or something. For all we know, this guy might be just plain crazy. An insane Sinestro guy. I guess it's possible. But," he frowned deeper, "the clerk at the Taco Bell said all he did was steal some burritos. And not a whole lot of those. Apparently just eating lunch." He thought for a minute. "I can only imagine the destruction a yellow lantern could've done, there among civilians, like that. But he didn't."

"Nightwing?" Miss Martian spoke over their connection, from her position in the air over them, "something you should know. When I scanned Tommy, back there, I caught the faintest trace of something. I don't know how to describe it, but…"she paused, thinking. Nightwing let her think. He respected her mental powers almost as much or more than her physical ones. "it was like…a, I don't know, a _reflection_ of a mind somehow, like an…afterglow, is the best I can call it, there in Tommy's mind. You know how people used to believe that a dead person's eyes held a picture of the last thing they'd seen? This was like that, in a strange sort of way."

"Could you tell anything about the guy? Anything at all?"

"No, sorry. But…I got the distinct impression that it wasn't just, like, a power ring's reflection. It was that, but it was also something else." He could hear her frowning in concentration over their comm band. "I really can't do any better than that. But I do know what he looks like."

"Good. Any idea where this guy could be?"

"None. I know that doesn't do any good, but I get the distinct impression that….somehow he's different. He just _acts _different. But that's all I can do. Sorry."

"So…something _other_ than just another ringslinger. Well, that may prove helpful. We can get together and compile a sketch of what he looks like…it'll help in finding him." He sighed. "I just hope the next lead we have doesn't involve body bags. We need to find him before that happens."

…

Tommy's social worker, Ms. McCormick, was taking Tommy back to the foster home where he'd been assigned. "Thank goodness you're okay, Tommy. And I'm glad to see you…coming around again. I know you have some horrible memories, but we'll help you with them. You know that, don't you? You know you're not alone, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tommy was still weeping, but less now than he had been. He sat on the passenger side of her car, seat belt correctly fastened, looking out the window._ Like he's looking for someone,_ she thought.

"I'm just thankful he didn't hurt you. You do remember, you're not supposed to talk to strangers, right? I mean, that's the rule. So if you see him again, you let someone know. Just so we know where he is, that's all." She glanced over at him. "What, exactly, did he do to you, Tommy?"

Tommy was silent for a bit. "He…he took something away. There was something in me—in my head—that was, that was hurting me. He took it away."

"You mean, like a bad memory or something?"

"No….I don't know. But whatever it was, he took it away. Or, or some of it. It _hurt_, it _still_ hurts—but he didn't do that. I, I don't know how else to tell it."

"Did he _hurt_ you, in some way?"

"No. The Bad Thing that hurt me was already there. He…he, it's like he _stood between_ me an' the Bad Thing, keeping it away from me. He wouldn't let it hurt me anymore."

"Oh." She didn't understand at all, but as long as Tommy hadn't been hurt….

But then Tommy, still looking out the window, spoke in a whisper she could barely hear. "An' he's still there. I can feel him in my head. Still there, standing between me, an' the Bad Thing.

"As long as _it's_ there, _he'll_ be there. Always."

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: Understanding

The Gold Corps: Genesis, Chapter 4: Understanding

Ragnar flew over the countryside, noting its similarity to the only other world he knew. There were forests here, and predators, and prey animals, but the bipeds he'd met seemed to be predominant.

He felt very confused.

The matter with Tommy Walker…he didn't understand why or how he'd done that. He, himself, had suffered the loss of his parents, but he'd never really known them. All he knew was the _loneliness_ he'd felt, feeling as though there was no-one else in the entire universe. Tommy had been different: he'd _known_ his parents, _known_ what it was like to have a family around him—and had known what it was like to have that yanked away suddenly. In reality, in coldly logical terms, thought Ragnar, Tommy's situation was actually worse.

So did that account for what happened?

No. There was no clear answer there, and Ragnar was accustomed to clear answers. Survive or die. Fear or die. None of that really accounted for his…whatever it was he'd done back there.

Although never having gone through formal indoctrination in the Sinestro Corps, he wasn't unfamiliar with its goals. Fear. Fear was the key. Make people afraid to hurt you. Make _things_ afraid to hurt you. Make _everything_ afraid to hurt you. That way, nothing will.

So why—and how—had he taken Tommy's fear away? There was nothing in the ring's repository of information on that particular ability or feature.

Analyzing the situation, he could only come up with one thing: he hadn't _wanted_ Tommy to be afraid. Not the way he had been, the "no hope" kind of fear. _Despair,_ yes, that was the word. He didn't want Tommy to be in _despair_. Despair didn't accomplish anything, except to make you an easy target for something nasty and probably hungry.

On the world where he'd grown up, he'd seen one of the smaller prey animals driven into a corner by some predator. That prey animal had been afraid, very afraid, but not the kind of fear that would help. Instead the poor creature had simply shivered there, in terror, until the predator killed it.

Somehow, that had just never seemed completely right to him. He had found himself wishing that he could've…done something. Helped the prey animal, somehow. Saved it, maybe, even though he knew such saving would have been temporary. And the prey creature would probably have been just as afraid of him as it was the large predator.

Was this really all the universe held? Kill or be killed? It had always seemed so simple before. Now it was anything but simple.

The boy, Tommy, had been faced with something he couldn't handle, not on his own. So Ragnar had, somehow, _joined with him_, just for a moment, had lent him some of his own strength. But he, Ragnar, had gotten something in return. Something he didn't even have a name for, couldn't describe.

Ragnar was aware of the Alphas of the herd hunting him. And the green ones, above, had not gone away. So he needed to take precautions, not to be caught, like that defenseless prey animal had been.

The purpose of fear was to teach one to be strong, so that one didn't have to be afraid. Or at least, not _as_ afraid.

Strength, true strength, came from within. But it also came from without. From not being alone. Even as he had not let the boy _be alone with his nightmares._

He found himself in the forested area where he stashed his horrible tasting food items from earlier. A jumble of thoughts raced through his head, and he couldn't seem to untangle them.

He _didn't want_ people to be afraid the way Tommy had been afraid, with no hope, no light in his mind or soul. Fear was good only so long as it accomplished something. If it made you stronger, then that was a good thing. But to have fear make you vulnerable…that was not a good thing. No, not a good thing at all.

Back on his native world, he'd wished, hoped, and dreamed of finding some beings he could talk to, could communicate with. Now he'd found them, but the very ones who might have the answers he sought were hunting _him,_ probably without his best interests at heart. He didn't see any point in going to them. Even if they could help, they probably would not.

But his thoughts were not helping him understand. There were too many, and they were too complicated. He was having a hard time understanding his own thoughts. Could it be that fear, simple fear, wasn't the answer?

So what was?

He sighed. Things had seemed so much simpler back on his native world. How had they managed to get so complicated?

"Mr. Ragnar?" It was the little girl who'd approached him earlier, at the "school" thing, there just before he'd met Tommy. "Mr. Ragnar? Are you alright?"

His ring translated: more than one definition for this query. "I am…alright. Physically. But…"

She came over and sat by him, on the rock where he was sitting. "You look sad."

"No, I'm not sad." He was startled to realize that he'd given her his name, but had never asked for hers. "What is your name?"

"I'm Sarah. Sara Marshall." She seemed to think for a minute. "Well, if you're not sad, what's wrong?"

"I…I don't know my purpose in life, anymore, Sarah. I'm…confused."

She looked around, as though looking for someone, then looked back at him. "I thought you told me you teach others to be afraid, so they won't have to die."

He let out a breath. "I _thought_ that was my purpose. Now…now I'm not so sure."

"What happened?"

"The boy, your friend. Tommy. I….helped him. I didn't come here to do that, but…it seemed to happen…automatically, I guess." He rested his chin on his hand. "And I don't know why or how."

"But you're a superhero. Isn't that what you do?" She sounded as confused as Ragnar himself was.

"I don't even know what a 'superhero' is, Sarah. All I know is, I've traveled across the universe, teaching—or trying to teach—others to be afraid, so they'll survive. But Tommy…Tommy was afraid, yes, but there was…more than fear in him. I, I. I did something. And I'm not sure what or how."

"Maybe you showed him he wasn't the only person to be afraid. Maybe you showed him that you were afraid, too, an' that he wasn't alone. Sometimes," she continued, as she plucked at her dress, "Sometimes we think we're all alone, that nobody else understands. Maybe you showed him you understood. That he wasn't alone."

"But surely others have done that. I read about the dead coming back to life, which is something I really don't understand. But I do understand that would make anyone afraid. So Tommy _can't_ have been the only one who was made to be afraid by all that."

She looked up at him. "So…what do you _think_ you did?"

"I…" He frowned in concentration, "There was…something. Something inside of him that didn't belong there. Something…bad, if I understand the term correctly. I, I think I took that away. Or, or somehow made it…go away, or something."

"You fought something bad. That's what superheroes _do._ Of course," she paused a moment, "There are villains, too."

"What are 'villains'?"

"People who do bad things to other people. Like that evil clown, the one they call the Joker. He does bad things to people just 'cause he _can_. No reason for it. He just does. And he thinks it's _funny._" The distaste was evident in her voice.

Ragnar shook his head. "I'm still trying to learn what 'good' and 'bad' are, but that…that doesn't sound…that doesn't sound _right._ He does bad things just because he can do bad things? Even animal predators do things for better reasons, for food, or, or something like that."

"That's why I say you're a superhero. You've _gotta_ be, 'cause you don't think that's _right._ So…if he, like, started to do something bad to _me,_ you'd stop him, wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

"So there you are. You stop bad people from doing bad things to other people. You're a superhero." She cocked her head at him. "Maybe you didn't know it, but that's what you just gotta be. 'Cause that's who you are."

He sighed, resting his head on his hand. "I still don't know. There are others, ones you call 'superheroes,' out looking for me. They want to catch me. I don't know exactly what they want to do to me, but I daresay it's something I wouldn't like. So…how can I be a superhero if superheroes are out looking for me, to capture me?"

"Oh, _that's_ nothing. Superheroes fight all the time. Doesn't make 'em any less superheroes. What makes 'em superheroes is, they protect people who can't protect themselves. People like Tommy. People like me."

"But I didn't protect Tommy. He still lost his parents, and I couldn't do anything about that."

"No, but you let him see you _wanted_ to help, that you'd help if you could. An' that you understood. That helped him. Don't you see that?"

He shook his head. "I guess I'm still trying to understand some things, Sarah. I _thought_ I understood how the universe worked, but it seems to be more complicated than I thought."

She nodded sagely. "Things usually are. 'Specially when it comes to people."

He looked at the sun, then at her. "Aren't you supposed to be going home to your parents? It's getting late."

She shrugged. "I can be a little late. My mom's okay with that. And she knows I sometimes stay here an' play with my friends. So she's not worried." Again she looked up at him. "And _you're_ a friend, aren't you?"

"Of course." With a start, he realized his life-long dream had come true: he'd _found someone to talk to._ "But I'd hate for you to be out late. On my world, that was when the night-running predators came out."

She took his hand. "I'm not scared. Not as long as you're with me. 'Sides. Aren't you hungry?"

Under her guidance, Ragnar once again walked down the streets of the city, marveling at how the lights began to come on, sparkling like the stars in the sky. It seemed to give the city a new life, each light being a source of _potential,_ somehow_._ A sign of _life._ On his home world, the nights had been dark, dark, except for the lights of the stars, and the two moons.

They came to a place with two large yellow arches out front, and a sign that read "McDonald's." He didn't know what all that meant, but he guessed it didn't matter.

But he felt uneasy, and hung back. "I'm…not sure this is a wise idea, Sarah. It was from a place like this that the Alphas of your herd began to look for me. I have to avoid capture."

She looked up at him, still holding his hand. "Don't you have any money?"

"Munny?" He tasted the unfamiliar word. _Money,_ his ring informed him, _a unit of exchange between individuals, for goods or services._ "No, I don't. There was no one else on my home world with whom to exchange money."

She nodded wisely. "I bet that's what happened. Here." She handed him a piece of green paper. His ring told him of its value. "No, no, I couldn't take your _money,_ Sarah. That's yours. It wouldn't be…right…to take it. I think that's what got me in trouble before; I took some food items without exchanging for them. I didn't know how it worked then."

"It's alright, Mr. Ragnar. It's okay if I _give_ it to you. Here." And she took his hand and firmly placed the five-dollar bill in it. "Besides. You gotta eat."

Well, alright, he thought. He _was_ hungry, but he was even more hungry to avoid capture. Whatever the green ones and the Alphas had in store for him, he didn't think he'd like it.

They went in. The line at the counter wasn't long. As before, the menu overhead made little sense to him, even with all that he'd learned since coming to this world. "Mr. Ragnar, you might wanna get the double cheeseburgers. Unless you'd prefer chicken? Anyway, they're only a dollar, and that money will buy more that way." Yes, he could see the logic in that. He truly felt blessed to have found a friend, an _understanding_ friend, like her, who could guide him around and show him how things worked.

The clerk behind the desk eyed him. "Yes, sir? May I take your order, sir?" There was again that odd phrasing. He didn't wish for anything to be taken from him, but he surmised that what she meant was, for him to tell her what he wanted so she could prepare it. Something like his ship's computer had prepared him meals back on his home world. "Ah, yes. Please prepare two double cheeseburgers for me."

"Yes, sir." She turned and yelled at several someones behind her, ones who seemed to be actually in the process of preparing the food. _"Two double cheeses!_" Then, to him, "Will that be all, sir?"

"Not quite." He turned to Sarah. "What do you want?"

She smiled a very small smile. "That's okay, Mr Ragnar. I'm not hungry. Besides, if I ate here, I wouldn't be hungry for supper, an' Mom would be mad. So you go ahead an' eat. I don't have to be home for a few more minutes."

"If you're sure…" She nodded. Then, he spoke to the clerk, who was giving him an odd look. He couldn't place it; he'd never seen a look like that before. It was like fear, but had an element to it he couldn't identify.

He shrugged. New world, new customs. He got his food and went with Sarah over to a table. He was, frankly, a little nervous; his last meal from such a place hadn't tasted very good at all. It was probably drawing ants already, and, as far as he was concerned, they could have it.

But these-! Yes! These were delicious! He devoured the cheeseburgers in record time, not even noticing the clerk at the desk, still looking at him rather oddly.

Outside the fast-food establishment, partially concealed by the gathering shadows, two figures waited on the sidewalk, hand in hand. A casual passerby would have noticed nothing unusual about them in the gathering gloaming. They probably would have paid no attention to the blue tint of their skin, most people already being accustomed to individuals from other stars, and of different colors.

What definitely would have attracted the interest of every one around them was concealed by means of a very effective illusion. They manifested the blue skin, true, but the illusion prevented anyone from seeing beneath that veil, to see the rotting corpses it concealed.

They stood there, a male and a female, looking steadfastly across the street, into the warm interior of the restaurant. Although they no longer needed anything as primitive as human vision to see, they could nonetheless clearly see the blue-skinned, golden costumed individual inside. The taller of the two turned to the other and hissed, "_Ssooonn."_

_"Yessss,"_ replied the other in an equally sibilant hiss, "_Ssoon, our boy will be ready to join us, here on the nightside of creation."_

_….._

"You say he was right here?"asked Nightwing of the clerk. His team had arrived, once again, just a few minutes after the yellow lantern had left Mentally, he kicked himself, wondering what kept them from catching up with this guy. Seemed like they were always a step behind. "Did he do anything, hurt anyone?"

"No. In fact, all he did was, he ordered two double cheeseburgers, paid for them just like everybody else, then went over there"—she indicated a small table in the corner, "—and just sat there and ate them." She shrugged. "Just like anybody else.

"Except…."

"Except what, ma'am? Did he try to hurt anyone or anything?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. In fact, I kinda wish we had more customers like him. He was quiet, polite, didn't cause no trouble. It's just…" Nightwing waited. The clerk gathered her facts and impressions. "I think he was … maybe a little crazy, y'know?"

"What do you mean?" _That might account for a lot, _Dick thought.

"Well, when he first came in, I noticed the costume, of course, and had one of my workers go out back and call you. His phone wouldn't work properly, so that's why it took so long.

"But the thing is this: he came up to place his order, handed me a five dollar bill for two double cheeses. But then he turns, and says, 'and what do you want?'"

"He was with someone? Who?" Nightwing had a horrific image of two or more supervillains actually joining forces. That could get bad real quick.

"But that's just it, Mr. Nightwing. He came in alone. _There was nobody there beside him. He was talking to an empty space._"

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5: Instincts

The Gold Corps: Genesis, Chapter 5: Instincts

_I don't own the Green Lantern Corps, the Sinestro Corps, Justice League Unlimited, nor Young Justice. But I suppose could make a case for owning this idea for the Gold Corps._

_Ah, maybe. I'll think about it._

_Anyway, onward._

Ragnar sat atop a high tower, overlooking the lights of the city. He couldn't get over how _different_ they made everything look. How…_cheerful_. On his native world, there had really been no such word. And the nights had been dark, so dark. Many was the time he went to sleep with the lights of his ship on, not because he was afraid of the dark, but just…because the light seemed to keep him company, somehow. On some level below conscious thought, he knew that _light_ and _life_ were somehow inextricably linked.

Now he was no longer alone. True, that not-aloneness had brought along some complications he hadn't foreseen, such as the Alphas hunting him, or the green ones doing likewise. Before he'd been gifted with this amazing ring, this power, he'd somehow always assumed that anyone else he managed to find to talk to, to actually communicate with, would be…friendly? Was that the word?

But then, he hadn't been overly friendly himself, he guessed. He'd attacked the green ones because they were hunting him, but maybe, just maybe he should have tried to communicate with them first.

And that reminded him of the secure tap he had on the golden green one's ring. Now he activated it, to see if anything was being said.

"…_don't know how he managed to get away, but we can't pinpoint him, Hal."_ There was a pause, presumably while this "Hal" person answered. _"That's just it. We're looking for the standard signature of yellow power rings. Unless he's able to cloak against that, we should have something. But we don't."_ Another pause. _"Not yet. I hate to contact them with negative information. You say your team has a composite sketch of him? Good. Mind sending me a copy? Okay. Now. What's he been up to?"_ Another pause, this one longer than the rest. He couldn't know what was being said, but he guessed they, the golden green ring user and this "Hal" person (and he felt an irrational surge of some emotion he'd never felt within him. Why should he feel this way, about her contacting another? Surely it made no difference to _him)_ were discussing what they'd learned about him thus far. He wished he could hear both sides of the conversation. _"So Nightwing thinks he's nuts? That could be the case. But Hal, from what we've seen of Sinestro Corps members, helping people, even accidently, just isn't on their menu. And wouldn't an insane person just not attract a ring in the first place? It would make more sense."_ So, thought Ragnar with a smile, they thought he was crazy, did they? Well, he might could make good use of that. Sometimes disinformation could be a great strength. _"You're right. I guess it doesn't have to make sense. Alright, Hal. We'll give it another two days. Then, we'll have to do something. As it is, I'm sure the Guardians are gonna have some choice words for us about not taking action sooner. Yeah, I know you'd stick by us, but we'd still get the short end._

"_Anyway, when this is over, we need to meet and talk. I can tell you're hurting, Hal."_ Another pause, this one brief. _"Right. And your sun just began to spin in the opposite direction, too. Don't give me that 'I can take care of myself' line. Normally, yeah, you do a superb job. But whaddaya think friends are for, if not to check up on each other? You want the notfriend demons to get after me?"_ Brief pause. _"Notfriend demons. They hide under your pillow, and, if you've not been the friend you should have been, sneak out at night, shave all your hair off, and paint your face with horrid black and white stripes. Stripes that won't go away for a full month. You don't want that to happen to me, do you? Okay, okay, have your little laugh. I'll 'fertile imagination' you, if you don't agree to meet me in two days. Got it? Two of your days. Arisia out."_

So. He'd gotten some good intel from that conversation. Evidently, the one called "Arisia" (and that was a nice name, he thought) was the leader of the green ones who were hunting him. One of her allies was this "Hal" person, maybe another green one? But who had she been talking about reporting to? Guardians? Guardians of what? He felt like he needed to know that.

A resolve was building up in him. Sooner or later, he had to go to one of these groups, and just ask them a few questions. Probably, he'd go to the Alphas, as they seemed to be less of a match for him and his power, should the conversation take a turn for the worse. But before that, he'd need more data.

And just as he thought that, than his attention was drawn to a large source of flickering light that didn't seem to be the sort the humans normally employed. One of their structures was ablaze, over on the other side of the town.

Of course, he was familiar with fire and how easily it can get out of control, and the damage it could cause. There was certainly no reason for it to be here; it surely did not teach the Lesson of Fear in any useable manner. If people weren't already properly afraid of fire, and the damage it could do, they almost certainly had to be brain-damaged, and thus incapable of learning about it in the first place.

And he remembered his friend, Sarah, saying, _"So…if he, like, started to do something bad to me, you'd stop him, wouldn't you?"_ But instead of the evil clown Joker, he pictured the fire. Sarah was home and safe, he knew, as he'd personally flown her there himself. But there might be others down there, menaced by the devouring element. They already knew the Lesson of Fear. They were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And he remembered the defenseless prey animal, back on his home planet.

Without realizing it, he found himself in the air, heading towards the blaze. It wasn't that far, and in no time, he found himself hovering over a raging fire in a large structure designed to house many humans, elderly humans, his ring told him, ones who could no longer live at home. Outside, there were human men in long coats spraying water and foam onto the fire—but he could tell it wasn't enough. The building would burn thoroughly

And his ring told him there were still some humans trapped within. Huddling in terror, just as the prey animal had been back on his native world. He hadn't had the power to do anything about it then….

…But now he did.

He brought up his ring, bringing the yellow charging lantern out from its subspacial "pocket," held his ring against the interface, and recited the rhyme the ring had told him to recite, to charge the ring:

"_In blackest day, in brightest night,_

_Beware your fears made into light._

_Let those who try to stop what's right_

_Burn like his power, Sinestro' s might!"_

The ring whined an ascending note that always accompanied charging. However, he noticed something strange: for some reason, the ring wasn't charging to full capacity. Maybe about ninety-five percent. That was odd.

But he had no time to waste. His ring had sufficient power to do what he needed to do.

In he flew, heedless of the inferno around him, immune to both the fire's scorching heat and the choking fumes of smoke. There. His ring zeroed in on three sources of fear, great fear just down that hallway.

Nurse Malloy had come in to see about Mr. Overton when the first reports of fire down the hallway had come, the alarms ringing their deafening chorus overhead. "Come on, Mr. Overton! We've got to get you out of here!"

"No! I can't go! Not without Peaches!" So rattled was the nurse that she momentarily thought he meant actual peaches. Then she remembered: _Peaches_ was the name of the nursing home's cat, who was often to be found in his room. "Where is Peaches?"

"Come on, Mr. Overton! You just get up, and I'll look for Peaches." Mr. Overton sat up, and managed to transfer himself into a wheelchair. Ms. Malloy hunted all over the room, and finally found Peaches perched high upon a shelf. She tried to reach the cat, but it was just too far for her five-foot, three-inch height. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't reach the cat. Peaches, meanwhile, looked down upon her with a mixture of suspicion and abject terror. Malloy doubted she'd be able to budge her even if she could get a grip.

She finally gave up. It was more important to get the old man out. _Cats have a way of surviving_, she consoled herself, even as she thought that _this_ one might not have such a way, not this time, in this circumstance. But duty first.

"I'm not leaving without Peaches!"

"Mr. Overton, we'll have to come back for Peaches. Right now, I have to get you to safety. Otherwise my director will get mad at me. You don't want him to get mad at me, do you?"

"Peaches!" groaned the old man, craning his neck around. He somehow made the word sound like "goodbye."

Malloy went to the door, to test it, remembering from her fire drills: if the door is hot, it means the fire is on the other side of it.

The door was very hot. And as she glanced around, she saw something that she'd known was there, but that she hadn't let herself think about, before. And she felt a tingling sensation on the back of her neck.

Mr. Overton's oxygen bottles.

The fire was _just outside_. And inside was just what it needed to become their funeral pyre.

It would take a miracle to save them now.

Ragnar scooted through the flames at ground level, zeroing in on the room where the fear was coming from. There, that was the one. He knew well how fire worked, and willed his ring to exhaust the air in the corridor he'd just come down through, and, with only a thought, ripped the door outward, into the outer hallway.

Inside were two humans, one seated in some sort of wheeled apparatus, another wearing a white garment, both of them looking at him as though in shock. "Do not fear. I will get you to safety," he said.

The old man spoke up. "Peaches! Save Peaches!" And pointed behind him to a high shelf.

Ragnar followed his pointing finger, and saw the creature sitting atop the shelf. Although it was a predator, it reminded him of that defenseless prey animal on his home world. It was certainly no more trouble to rescue three…"I will save you all," he reassured them.

Then, surrounding them all with globes of thick golden light, proof against both the heat and the smoke, he blasted upward into the night outside, that being the shortest route to the outside.

There were some humans clustering around one corner of the burning building, with vehicles that emitted red and blue flashing lights. They were obviously there to help the people there, so Ragnar flew his charges, the two humans, and a very surprised and hissing Peaches, over to them, landing gently next to one of the larger vehicles. "Excuse me," he said, even as they turned surprised faces towards him. "But I believe these people could probably use some medical attention." They stared for a moment, then descended upon the frightened humans, and the still-frightened cat, now crouched in the lap of the one in the wheeled conveyance.

He was about to fly off, having satisfied himself that there was nothing more to be done here, when he heard a female's calm voice from behind him, over his shoulder. "Excuse me," said Miss Martian, "but might we have a moment of your time?"

_To be continued…_

….


	6. Chapter 6: Questions

The Gold Corps: Genesis, Chapter 6: Questions

"But…who exactly _are_ you?" Nightwing had been (rightfully) dead-set against bringing the yellow lantern back to Mt. Justice, so they had to conduct their conversation only a few blocks away from the burning nursing home. They'd deliberately left Superboy out on this particular mission; the last thing they needed was the hot-headed teen getting into a throwdown match in the middle of town. He and Miss Martian had moved to confront the strangely-acting renegade lantern, with Zatanna hanging back in the shadows, spells ready should things take a turn for the worse.

"I have told you. My name is Ragnar Rok, and I am from a planet many light-years away."

"And you're…Sinestro Corps?"

"I believe so. Although I have never met anyone named 'Sinestro,' nor have I ever met anyone else in such a corps, but that is what I have gathered."

"How did you come by that ring?"

"Actually, it came to me. On my homeworld, I was about to eaten by some predators, when the ring fell out of the sky, and told me I was selected to join this 'Sinestro Corps' I've heard of." Shrug. "I certainly didn't refuse it, as the alternative was death."

_Nightwing,_ 'pathed Miss Martian, _I can't really read his mind. There's some kind of interference. But I'm definitely getting the impression that he's not crazy. At least not what we'd call insane. Maybe he's just a victim of circumstances._

"_Fell in with the wrong crowd" sort of thing? I suppose that's possible,_ Dick 'pathed back. _But what do we do with the guy?_

Ragnar was rapidly losing his patience, of which he never had a great deal of, to begin with. These Alphas had asked him a lot of questions, but had skillfully avoided answering his. "Who _is_ this 'Sinestro,' and what is this 'corps' of his? I would know these things."

"Ah, well, that's kind of a long story. Maybe we can explain it better somewhere else." _Someplace with some stasis-cuffs handy, and Kid Flash ready to slap 'em on you._

"You ask your questions, but you don't answer mine. I weary of this one-sided conversation." So saying, he rose into the air.

"No, wait!" They'd certainly expended enough effort just trying to track the guy, and now, here he was, about to leave. _Megan, Zatanna, get ready!_

Ragnar turned in mid-air. The green girl was frowning in concentration, as though she were about to attempt something. And he felt something trying to reach into his mind...

Instinctively, he blasted the ground in front of her, surprising her, and breaking her concentration. He then formed a shield between them, and immediately rose off, into the night sky.

"Damn!" exploded Nightwing. "We _had_ the guy! Megan! What happened?"

"I, I don't know. He, I think he sensed me about to attack him, and he, somehow _resisted._ I couldn't get a full lock on his mind."

"Well, what's done…" At that moment, they heard a groan come from the alley where they'd left Zatanna. Racing over, they found the sorceress lying against the wall, as though she'd fallen. "Zee, what happened?"

Zatanna held her head, wincing. "I was about to cast a spell when…something interfered. I don't think it was anything he did, at least not deliberately." She suddenly seemed to come to, looking up at her leader with an expression almost of desperation on her face. "Nightwing, we have to find him!"

He helped her to her feet. "That's what we're trying to do-*"

"I mean, it's more important now than ever! There's, there's _forces_, I guess you'd call them, forces swirling about him. I caught a glimpse of that, when I tried to cast my spell. I think that was what hit me: not something he did, but something else, something…_interested_ in him, or, or somehow involved with him. Or that he's involved with, somehow."

"What do you mean?"

She drew a deep breath. "It's hard to put it into words, what I sensed. It's like… forces of life and death are swirling about him, forces of reality and imagination, of good and evil. Opposites, in other words. I, I can't explain it any better than that."

"So. Now we have to find this guy even more. Great. No pressure."

…

Well, that hadn't gone very well, thought Ragnar.

Something puzzled him. The green girl…he had been able to tell she was trying to use some sort of mental power against him. Normally, when attacked, he fought back with everything at his disposal. Why hadn't he simply killed her? Surely he could have done so, even though he sensed she was more than she appeared to be.

But maybe it had been the same way this time as it had been that time with the green power ring wielders, the golden one in particular. Maybe if they saw he was more than able to defend himself, they would use that _communication_ of theirs to spread the word that he was not to be trifled with. Besides. He was here to teach the Lesson of Fear, wasn't he? In spite of his doubts, he really didn't know anything else to do. And killing people…the dead can't feel fear. So what was the point?

Of course, others would see the dead bodies, and know he was not to be attacked with impunity. So that had to be taken into consideration.

But still…killing these beings didn't seem like a winning proposition to him. He still had his dream of being able to just _talk_ to some people, people like himself. True, there was Sarah, and he was thankful for her, but that didn't mean there couldn't be others.

But stay on topic, he told himself. He was here to teach the Lesson of Fear. Alright, well and good. Who would he teach it _to?_

It just didn't seem right to teach the Lesson to those individuals who were the weakest. He remembered Sarah's telling him about the Joker, who did "bad things" to people who couldn't defend themselves just because he could. He didn't want to be like that.

Sooo…maybe if he taught his Lesson of Fear to the strong? Or at least, the strong_er?_

And then he remembered the large structure the humans had in space. Hmm. Distinct possibility there. And it would serve two purposes: not only would it teach his Lesson, but it would also allow him to determine their abilities, of which he was still in the dark.

…..

Ragnar approached the space station cautiously. He was acutely aware that the structure contained a great deal of knowledge, knowledge that he could make good use of. And, of course, housed various beings of power, who would no doubt take umbrage at his attempting to access that data. So stealth was called for.

Cautiously, ever alert for signs of activity, Ragnar "felt" around for electromagnetic signals such as the humans normally used for communication. Of course, he was aware that they employed means of communication such as he couldn't readily tap into, such as the communication the golden one, with the green power ring, used. He could only hear her communication because he'd planted a surveillance program onto her ring, earlier. But he had to be in direct contact with such a ring to do so. He couldn't do that with the (supposedly) green power ring wielders in the structure.

But he _could_ access their internal communication system, and, although it was mostly closed-circuit, build an energy construct that would serve as a "gateway" into their main computer data banks. Their technology wasn't as high as his ship/home back on his world, so the process wasn't difficult. Plus, since they used sound, also, to communicate, he could listen in by detecting the minute vibrations their voices caused in the walls of the station.

Slowly, cautiously, he built his link. There. He was in, but there were levels of encryption to defeat…

"So…what I'm hearing you say is, you actually caught up with this Sinestro Corps member, and _you let him get away?"_ Nightwing winced at the tone of J'onn J'onzz voice.

"Unfortunately, yes, sir. He seems to be a bit more than meets the eye, though. We've got two accounts of him actually _helping_ people. That's _very_ out of character for these guys."

"Hm. Yes, but that still doesn't excuse you for letting him slip through your fingers like that. I trust this won't happen again? Or do I need to assign someone else to the case? The yellow lanterns are, after all, normally the province of the Green Lantern Corps. Perhaps I should send them."

"Give us another chance, sir. Frankly, even if we hadn't been assigned to the case, there's something odd about the whole thing. Zatanna says there are forces working around him she can't identify. That's not usually the case. I mean, a Sinestro Corps member is a Sinestro Corps member, there's usually nothing all that complicated about it. But, call it a hunch, I can't shake the notion that there's just more here than we're seeing. At least let us get more information."

"Very well. But I'll have Hal Jordan and John Stewart standing by, should there be a confrontation. They have the experience, after all, and could probably minimize any damage that may well result."

"Good enough, sir. Nightwing out." And he broke the connection.

J'onn J'onzz stared for a moment at the screen. He didn't doubt the young man's ability—in normal cases. But this was anything but. Never mind that this strange yellow lantern had, for some inexplicable reason, actually acted totally out of character, he wondered if Nightwing's team just wasn't in over their heads, as the Earth saying went. So far, they had mostly been used for covert operations, operations where the members of the Justice League might stand out a bit too much, be a bit too obvious. And, yes, he had to admit, to serve as a "firewall" against any public backlash: they could get involved in some matters, and do so without any outright, overt public support from the League.

He touched a button. "Hal? I need you to come up to the command center for a moment."

….

"They let him _get away?_" Hal Jordan's face registered shock.

"That was my reaction, too. But evidently, there's more to this case than meets the eye. I know you've been in contact with Arisia and her team. What have you learned?"

Hal Jordan shrugged. "Not a lot. He ambushed them in the asteroid belt…but didn't kill them, even though he had chance enough. But Arisia said they'd been tracking him for some time. Evidently, he's been going from star to star, causing a certain amount of mischief. They haven't been able to trace him to any one homeworld, yet."

"So…what's your understanding of all this?"

Another shrug. "He's Sinestro Corps. He needs to be locked up in a sciencecell on Oa. But…" He paused, thinking, "From what I'm hearing, maybe he's not beyond some sort of redemption. So far as anyone knows, he hasn't actually killed anyone. He ambushed Arisia's team…but, to be perfectly honest, in his shoes, knowing no more about the Corps than he seems to, I probably would've done the same thing. For a Sinestro Corps member, he's been remarkably restrained."

"Well," began J'onn, "No matter how moderate his responses may be, I need you and John Stewart to remain on standby, just in ca-*"

At which point, every light in the Watchtower went out.

….

Ragnar had identified the databanks of the large structure, and had begun to download the information he sought. Fortunately, his ring had a very large storage capacity.

But he tapped into the communication with the green male, obviously of the same species as the female he'd spoken with earlier (or was he? Something nagged at the back of his mind, something about the green girl was _different_ with regards to this green individual. He shrugged, to himself. He guessed it didn't matter; they had the same capabilities) and the dark clad male on the ground.

But now his ring was translating the data on this "Sinestro Corps" that he seemed to be a part of. Hum. Rule by fear? Make others afraid? Well, sort of. But…make everyone else afraid so they'd simply obey? Something about that seemed…not right. From what he was gathering, Sinestro Corps members made others afraid mostly because they could, and only these Green Lanterns (so that was what they were called!) stood in their way.

Make others afraid because you can? He remembered Sarah, telling him about the evil clown, who did bad things just because he could do bad things. He was beginning to understand more about the concepts of "good" and "bad," even though he didn't entirely understand them.

But one thing was for certain: the beings in this structure posed a distinct threat to him. So it was best if he dealt with it while he could, before they could marshal their strength against him.

The station was powered by a primitive hydrogen fusion reactor, tied into the computer system. It had numerous protocols in place to prevent unauthorized access to any of its features…but he didn't need to decrypt those protocols. All he had to do was, send the appropriate signals, direct from his ring, to the right circuits….

There. Now, not only was the power in the station out, but the reactor was set to go critical very soon. That would tie up their resources, and prevent them from being a nuisance to him.

He noticed the backup systems coming online, and several detection devices scanning the surrounding space, so he cloaked himself, and waited to see what would happen. Expecting pursuit, he had already made certain preparations. But how these beings dealt with danger would tell him a lot about them.

…

"Reactor's going critical, sir!" A frightened tech was rapidly scanning what few sensors were still working, running on emergency power.

J'onn J'onzz concentrated. _Captain Atom. You are needed._

_On my way._

The Martian Manhunter spoke to the tech. "Can you do anything about restoring control?"

"Tryng, sir, but she's not responding! And, and backup power only gives us a limited number of options…this apparently wasn't one of them!" Again he concentrated: _John Stewart, report to the command center._ Although not one to believe in "hunches," he really couldn't believe this had nothing to do with the matter of the rogue yellow lantern.

"Hal, John. Go EVA and scan the surrounding space. See if our uninvited visitor is anywhere in the vicinity."

"Roger that." Off they went, using their rings to transport them both outside, the teleport system being offline.

Outside: "What are we looking for, Hal?"

"Set your ring to detect the signature of a yellow lantern. I'm betting he's around here. But he can't hide from us."

Ragnar watched as the two Green Lanterns carefully scoured the area around the station. He needed to know more about their capabilities. So…

"There he is!" John pointed with his ring. "See him, Hal? Behind the weather satellite!"

"After him!" The two Green Lanterns moved to intercept their quarry, moving to either side of him, to make sure he couldn't slip past them or simply leave the area. "That's the guy! Together, John!" And the two combined their ring-power in one concentrated blast…

…which passed right through the hologram of himself Ragnar had projected. But Hal was ready for that, already turning his ring's sensors to sweep the area where the renegade lantern would most likely be hiding….

…right beside the Watchtower itself. The one place where they couldn't just light him up.

Ragnar watched, fascinated. The one wearing the small mask had seen through his illusion in record time, and had already deduced where he'd be. He readied himself for battle…

…_ring charge: 75%_

Ragnar didn't know any curse words, but if he had, he probably would've used some right then. Well, he'd just have to be careful.

Going head to head with these more experienced Green Lanterns didn't seem like a good idea. So, drawing upon his own experience, he moved into range of the other one, the one with dark skin, sending a ring blast his way.

The dark skinned one easily parried the blast, and returned fire. Ragnar evaded it, and sent a blast after the other one, moving in between them.

But they were ready for this tactic, and each moved slightly to the side, so as not to catch each other in the crossfire. Again and again the beams lashed out, testing Ragnar's defenses, causing his shields to weaken. He had to get away.

He dodged behind the large structure and sought to use it for cover. They pursued him, once again from either side, not letting up, not allowing him to escape.

The battle was fought in three dimensions; Ragnar moved "up" and "down", though, of course, such terms had little meaning in the vacuum of space. The two moved with him, never letting up for a moment…

…and right then, the two satellites who's trajectories he'd altered, and that had been behind the Watchtower when he first drew the green ones out, impacted with the Watchtower. Distracted, the Green Lanterns took their eyes off of him for the briefest of moments…

That was all the time he needed. He immediately teleported himself into the structure itself, using its own electromagnetic fields to camouflage him, cloaking himself, even as he hid in a small room, right inside the very structure itself.

"_Damn!_" Hal Jordan couldn't say who he was more angered at: the yellow lantern, for having given them the slip, or he himself, for allowing it to happen. _Now_ what? "J'onn? We lost him. How are things coming there?"

"_Better. We've been able to stabilize the core, and are working to restore power now. Do you have any idea where he could've gone?"_ There was no doubt but that the rogue lantern was behind the reactor core almost going critical.

"No. He gave us the slip. Did that satellite do any damage?"

"_Only cosmetic. Their trajectories were nearly the same as ours, so relatively, they weren't moving all that fast. Of course, we're still going to be scraping bits of it off our hull, but no significant damage."_

"Thank God. Arisia was right. This one's different. He seems to know more about being hunted than most, and uses that to think ahead and set traps and diversions. Guy would probably make one helluva chess player. Can the Tower's sensors tell anything?"

"_No, but he could be anywhere. You know your own rings are capable of taking you to Oa and back. He may even be in some other star system by now."_

"No, J'onn, he's not. I don't have any data, but I think he's still here. Probably right under our noses."

…..

Inside the small room where Ragnar had found himself, the lights came on, signaling the restoration of power. _Good,_ he thought. They'd handled the matter quite well, and faster than he would've given them credit for. That gave him an estimate as to how efficiently they coped with such emergencies. And the two green ones outside were more expert at using battle tactics than the others had been.

So logic decreed that he needed to avoid any direct conflict with them for right now. Maybe when he knew more…

"…telling you, Mari, you need to take the initiative here. I know John, and he's the original Mister Let Things Go On As They Have Been. You want your relationship to go anywhere, _you're_ going to have to make the first move." Two females had entered the small room where he was hiding.

There were several small cubicles in this room, with doors that could be pulled shut, and it was in one of these Ragnar hid. He wasn't sure what the cubicles were used for…oh, right. _That._ Biowaste disposal. But what were these females…?

Oh, well, yes. Okay, he could deal with that. Just stay still and quiet, and they shouldn't be long. He sat on the waste disposer receptacle and drew his legs up so that they wouldn't be visible from under the door of the cubicle.

"I don't know, Shayera. I love John, but it's like you say: he really has a lot of, I guess you'd call it _inertia_ when it comes to relationships. Maybe he's afraid to commit." The two females were standing at the place where water emerged from some metal pipes, talking, and doing something involving water. He could hear it gurgling down the drains.

"I don't think that's totally it. I think he just gets…comfortable, in a relationship, and doesn't see any reason to move ahead. If you wanna take it to the next level, you're gonna have to be more proactive about it."

There was a brief pause. Then the second voice, the one he'd identified as "Mari," said, "You know, I can't believe we're actually having this conversation."

And "Shayera" replied, "Yeah, well, John and I are history, despite what he learned in that future time. I mean, he's a good man, and he'll make some woman a great husband, but he and I just don't mesh anymore. If we ever did."

"Well, thanks again. I really needed this talk. Not just about John, but…just to see where you and I stand."

Laughter. "Don't worry about it. Yeah, at one time, I might've been…a little bent outta shape," (What? He wondered, could these people be so flexible as to literally bend themselves into different shapes? Were they shape-shifters? But somehow, he didn't think that was what this "Shayera" meant), "but now…we're good. Well, I'm going back up to see if they located that yellow lantern yet. You coming?"

"Ah, in a moment. I'll be right with you."

"Okay." And he could sense one of the females leaving.

The other entered a stall just next to him, and, from the sounds of rustling fabric, evidently pulled down or in some way rearranged her garment. She sat on one of the waste disposal units…right next to him.

_Okay,_ he thought. _This is no problem. Just wait a bit._ And right then, he began to get a powerful urge to sneeze.

The one called "Mari" sat there for a while, making certain sounds he'd come to associate with standard waste disposal in humanoids. He bit his tongue, trying to keep back the sneeze.

And still she sat there. The urge grew even stronger, and he had to bite his tongue harder to keep his mind off the irritation in his sinuses.

Finally, just when he was certain he was going to give away his presence, and teach _her_ the Lesson of Fear (and wouldn't that be a lesson! What would its point be? Don't go to the biowaste disposal unit without a friend nearby? That seemed to him like the most undignified, and, yes, _ridiculous _lesson he could teach), she got up, cleaned herself up in standard humanoid fashion, went to the sink and washed her hands. He heard the door _swish_ open as she left.

He waited a minute longer, just to be sure, then "A-_choo!_" That, he thought, had been close.

Too close. He had to get out of here and get back to the planet below. It wouldn't do for the green ones, the ones hunting him, to find him here, of all places. But how to go about doing that?

Willing himself invisible, he carefully exited the room, careful to listen first for signs of people in the curving hallway outside, then quickly zipped out, and headed down the hallway. His ring informed him, from the plans of the place he'd downloaded, that this was the way to the area where he could exit the station, what was called the "hanger bay." Curious name, that. He wondered what they could be hanging there. Well, maybe once he got there, he'd find out.

Once, a group of humans came around the corner, heading straight for him. He pressed against the wall. Even though he was invisible, one thing he hadn't learned how to do was to make himself intangible. If any of them bumped into him…

But none did, and shortly, he found himself in this "hanger bay," evidently a place where small space-going vehicles could enter and depart from. So all he had to do, now that he knew exactly where he was, and where "out there" was, was to teleport just outside the walls of this structure.

Then an alarm went off. _Now what?_ He'd been so careful…

"_Intruder alert. Intruder alert. All decks be on the lookout for any suspicious activity."_ But how could they have detected him? And so quickly?

Maybe their computers had some internal sensors he hadn't accounted for. That must be the case.

"_Power level: 25%"_ Great. That was all he needed right now. And he couldn't say his oath without being detected. Maybe he could whisper it…

"_Mr. Ragnar?"_ Startled, he looked around. That had sounded like Sarah's voice, but it couldn't be. She was home in bed, not up here in outer space.

Ragnar didn't know the phrase "desperate times call for desperate measures," but, had he known, would have whole-heartedly agreed. They already knew he was here, but not exactly where. So he used his ring to force open the hanger decks—even as he teleported himself outside on the _other_ side from the hanger.

Okay. Alright. Let them chase him, just so long as they didn't know exactly where he was. He flew down to the planet (referred to as _Earth_) as fast as his ring could take him. He desperately needed a recharge.

In a secluded wooded area, far from the lights of the city, he once again drew forth his battery, and recited the oath:

"_In blackest day, in brightest night_

_Beware your fears made into light._

_Let those who try to stop what's right_

_Burn like his power, Sinestro's might!"_

Again, the ascending singing sound told him of the ring's recharging. But…

…just like last time, it didn't charge fully. Now it was down to about 85% or so. Why was that?

Either he wasn't saying the oath correctly, or some other force was at work. But what? He _knew_ he was saying the oath the right way, just like he'd always done. So what was going on this time?

"_Rrragnarr…"_ The sibiliant whisper was barely audible to him. He whirled about, scanning with both ring and eyes. Had someone sneaked up on him?

But there was no one there. At least, no-one he could see….

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Betrayal

The Gold Corps: Chapter 7: Betrayal

Megan Morse, as she was known on Earth, came in from cheerleading practice so tired she wasn't even sure she could stay awake during her shower. But she did, and, donning her street clothes, prepared to go to the secluded area where she normally changed into her green Martian self (in itself a disguise, as she was actually a nonhumanoid white Martian), in order to fly back to Mt. Justice. Sighing, she picked her way over the broken ground, thankful that nobody ever seemed to come here. With her Martian powers, she wasn't really afraid of any muggers or anything, but she didn't want to give away her secret identity if she could help it.

She was just about to change when she heard a calm, very _familiar_ voice behind her. "Excuse me. Might we talk?" She whirled around. There he stood, not twenty feet away. "You!"

"Yes," replied Ragnar. He held up his hands in a placating manner. "I am not here to fight you. Can we talk a moment? Privately?"

_Nightwing! That yellow lantern is standing right in front of me!_

_Stall him, Megan. We're on our way._

He looked askance at her. "I sense you are contacting the others in your group. I had hoped we could talk, just you and I. But if not…" He rose up into the sky.

"No, wait!" He hadn't made any threatening gestures… "We'll…talk, if that's what you want to do. If that's all you want to do. It is, isn't it?" _Nightwing! Hold off on coming to the rescue. Let me see if I can talk to him first._

_You're in danger, Megan. That means we mobilize. _

_I may not be in as much danger as all that. Be ready, but let me see if I can talk to him, okay?_

(Grudgingly) _Okay. But if he so much as gives you a hard look, we're there._

He settled back down. "Of course. Why would I…say something that was not true?"

"A-alright." She sat down on a log, crossing her legs. She'd shifted her skin into the green coloration she normally employed, there being no one here to notice.

Well, nobody except for the guy they were supposed to bring in, who was supposed to be highly dangerous. "What do you want to talk about?"

Ragnar was silent for a moment. Then, "I find myself at odds with the stated goals of this Sinestro Corps, as I am given to understand them. What can you tell me about them?"

Megan considered. She didn't know what motives this yellow lantern could have; he might be setting her up for some ferocious attack, but, although she couldn't read his mind, she didn't think that was the case. He _sounded_ sincere. "Uh, well, we, ourselves, in my group, haven't had all that much contact with them, but from what we've gathered, their goal is to basically rule the universe through fear and intimidation. I mean, that seems to be pretty much it."

He nodded. "So I am given to understand, myself. I tapped into the large computers on the orbiting station high over your world, that housed so many enhanced power beings. That correlates with what they say, too."

"You attacked the _Watchtower?_"

"Is that what it's called? Yes." Here he shifted uneasily, pulling a knee up to his chest. "I felt I needed to know its defensive capabilities, and how the enhanced beings within would react."

"But, but Ragnar, you can't do that!"

He looked puzzled. "Why not?"

She saw what he meant. "I don't mean you _physically_ can't. Obviously, you can. But it, it's not a good way to behave, here on this world. Now you have every super-powered being there is out there, looking for you."

"They were looking for me before." A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "But I believe I see what you mean. I've _antagonized_ them. Well, perhaps it was, what's the human expression? A bad first impression?"

"Well, _yeah..._"

"But I am trying to understand this strange world, and what my role in the universe is. Somehow I get the impression that this is where I will find it. But from what you have said, and from what I have gathered…I do not think I particularly care for the goals of the Sinestro Corps. You say they wish to rule the cosmos. I don't want to rule anything. I had _thought_ that my purpose in life was to make others to be afraid, to teach them what to do when they are afraid, so they would be stronger. But…" And here, he remembered the defenseless prey animal back on his home world. "To cause fear simply because I _can_ cause fear seems pointless to me."

"Ragnar…I don't believe you're really an evil person. I think you just…happened to fall in with the wrong crowd."

Startled, he looked up. "I didn't fall."

"I mean, you got caught up with some bad people. But you aren't bad. I've seen you in action, back there at the nursing home. I spoke with Tommy, at the school. You have the instincts of a superhero, not a villain."

He sighed. "That is what Sarah keeps telling me. But I don't-*"

"Who's Sarah?"

"She is a friend of mine. She goes to the school where Tommy was. It was through her that I met him."

"Is she a teacher there?"

"No. I believe her to be a student. Why?"

"Well, I guess I'm surprised. On our world, kids are taught to not have anything to do with strangers, especially adult strangers."

"Why?"

She blew out a sigh. He had so many questions…he was what Kid Flash would call a "babe in the woods." He used to say, "a fish out of water" until Aqualad threatened to pole-axe him. "Sometimes, some adults hurt little kids. So most mothers teach their children not to talk to strangers or go with them anywhere."

"Why would an adult human wish to harm an immature one? There is surely no survival benefit in such an action."

"Trust me, that's a longer story than either of us really has time to go into. But tell me about Sarah."

He shrugged. "I don't really know much about her. She took me to a place of eating, and gave me something called _money_ so I wouldn't, as she put it, get into trouble by just taking the food items."

"So _that's_ what happened at the Taco Bell. We all sort of wondered about that. But you just didn't know, being so recently arrived here, did you, about money?"

"That is correct."

"But wait. You said Sarah gave you the money at, at the other place? The McDonald's, where you ordered the cheeseburgers?"

Another puzzled look. "Yes. I didn't want to take it, feeling like it was hers, but she said it was okay if she gave it to me, and even told me about the appropriate food items on that lighted board behind the table."

"Aaand…she was right there with you, the whole time?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

Megan twirled a lock of her hair, a gesture he found oddly…appealing, somehow. Overall, the female herself was…strangely easy to look at. He found himself enjoying talking with her. He could sense this wasn't her true appearance, but one thing his interstellar travels had taught him was to look beneath the surface of things. She was…nice. Yes, that was the word. She was nice, and it didn't matter what she really looked like."Well, it's just that we spoke with the manager after you'd left, and she said-*" But her words were cut off by a whistling sound, as Kid Flash shot out of the undergrowth, making a beeline for Ragnar, carrying, in his hands, a pair of stasis-cuffs, at such a speed that he was almost a blur.

It was only due to Ragnar's innate paranoia that he was not caught in the trap completely. As it was, Wally bounced off of a standing forcefield, projected by Ragnar's ring. Ragnar gave a surprised shout, and immediately blasted the general area where he'd seen the yellow and red blur, rising up into the air with the same fluid motion. Kid Flash was caught in the outer shockwave of the blast, and hurled a full twenty feet into a dense bush, landing painfully among the thorny branches.

Ragnar turned angrily to Megan, who recoiled at the fury in his expression. "You! I _trusted_ you! But, but you, you _betrayed _me! And, and I actually thought…I was actually thinking…!" But he was too angry to finish the sentence, and instead, sped off into the sky.

"Wait! Ragnar! Don't go, it wasn't me! Please!" But he was already gone.

Miss Martian turned angrily onto Wally, just now extricating himself from the thornbush. He'd have some cuts from all this. _"Damn_ it, Wally! We were _just talking!_ You mucked _everything_ up! _What_ were you thinking?!"

"I, I'm sorry, Megan. I, I guess I just thought-*"

"No, you _didn't_ think! _That_ was the problem! Now, he'll probably never trust us again! _See what you've done?"_

Her comm link activated. _"Okay, people,"_ said Nightwing's voice, _"I think we can all agree this got royally fubar'd. Wally, we're going to have to have a talk."_ Wally winced. _"Yeah, __that__ kind of talk. You had no business acting without orders. Now matters are more complicated than ever. We may have to bring in the League, or at least Hal and John Stewart. You know how I hate doing that. But we—and by that, I mean you—clearly fumbled this ball. Both of you, back to Mt. Justice. We have to plan our next move."_

….

Mt. Justice: Nightwing placed a conference call with the Watchtower. J'onn J'onzz, Hal Jordan, and John Stewart were on the other end, with Arisia and her team tele-attending from out beyond Jupiter. "Well, what have we got?" asked the Martian Manhunter, his usual direct way of opening conversation.

Dick spoke up. "We have a better feel for his mind, sir. Megan—I mean, Miss Martian—is convinced that he isn't an evil person at heart. But he did come into a yellow power ring, and wielding one takes one down a certain path. After all, the ring is fueled by fear, in part, so basically, he's gotta try to inspire fear in order to keep his ring charged. But so far," he grimaced, "he hasn't seemed to've been doing such a good job of that."

"The technicians up here might disagree with you," cautioned J'onn. "He certainly seemed to do quite well then."

"Excuse me, J'onn," broke in Hal Jordan, "I'm not trying to play devil's advocate here, but, to be honest, his attack struck me as, well, as half-hearted."

"Meaning?"

"If he was able to interface with our control system to the point where he could hack into our database, and evidently start the core to going critical, I don't see any reason why he couldn't have simply blasted the entire core out into space. That would've crippled the Watchtower, and probably sent it on a downward spiral, resulting in a crash, and the loss of who knows how many lives. Instead it seems like he was, as Miss Martian says, testing us, seeing how fast and how well we reacted to such an emergency."

"All of which indicates a somewhat less than totally friendly attitude towards _us_. Who's to say his next attack won't do precisely that, now that he's gauged our abilities?"

"We are. We now know he's here, and we know something about _his_ capabilities. And I'm not saying Sinestro Corps members aren't dangerous; they are. But I think we all agree this one's a little different. He's never _met_ Sinestro, was never formally indoctrinated into their Corps, didn't actually, willingly, join up. He just happens to have the ring, and happens to be from a planet where, evidently, he had to fight to survive." Hal spread his hands. "You get right down to it, he hasn't really done anything truly _evil_, not on a scale such as we're accustomed to seeing."

"Tell that to my bruises," grumbled Arisia. "But I have to admit, you have a point. But remember, Hal, it's just like you said: the ring has a certain effect on its wielder. Even if he was a total innocent before, the very fact that he owns this ring means he's probably no boy scout."

"And yet," began Nightwing, leaning back, "and yet, he does seem to function way out of character. The little boy, the people at the nursing home. And he seemed willing to talk to us, there, at that time. And, he sought out Megan for the same thing, only he was…interrupted." And here he stopped and shot a scorching look at Wally, who squirmed in his seat. "Hey, I said I was sorry! What more do ya want?"

"I see only two courses of action," interjected John Stewart. "Either vigorously pursue his capture, or…try again to engage him in some sort of conversation. A conversation that, yes, would include the possibility of capture. We certainly can't leave him to do as he pleases, not after all this."

Miss Martian cleared her throat. "Suppose we choose option B." She looked around the table, and at the monitor screen, split between those on the Watchtower, and Arisia, far out in space. "Exactly how would we go about doing it? I don't see him as trusting us again. Not after what happened last time." And _she_ shot a scorching look at Kid Flash, who squirmed in his seat even more, but made no reply.

"Perhaps the key is this girl whom he's befriended, this Sarah. He did say she attended school at the same school as Tommy Walker."

"I've already checked on that, sir," said Nightwing. "Turns out there's about two dozen girls who go by that name. And all we have is a first name. It would be painstaking to interview them all—assuming their parents would give us permission to do so. That's not a given, you know. A lot of parents would prefer not to get involved. We'd need a description, or at least a last name, and we don't have one."

"Blue skin," muttered John Stewart.

"What?"

"Blue skin. All the reports describe him as having blue skin. Don't they?"

"Ye-es, they do." Nightwing clearly didn't see where this was going. "Why? Is that significant to you?"

"Yeah. I don't know why,but something tells me it is."

"What about this girl, though?" inquired Wonder Woman. "The manager at the restaurant said he was talking to someone who wasn't there. And you," here she pointed at Miss Martian from the monitor, "said he said she was there with him, in the restaurant. Yet apparently nobody else could see her."

Megan shrugged. "I got the distinct impression he's lonely. He grew up alone. Maybe it's not so surprising that he basically imagined up a companion, with his ring."

"But he gave the clerk a five dollar bill," Hal Jordan mused, scratching his chin. "Neither our rings nor yellow rings can create something of a permanent nature, like that. So where'd he get the money?"

"We're arguing in circles, over minutae" stated J'onn. "We need more information. M'gann." His niece bolted upright at the mention of her name. "Did you get any impression of where he could have come from? Anything at all?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, Uncle J'onn. For some reason, I seem to be unable to read his mind. I don't think he's deliberately blocking me, and it doesn't feel like it's the ring's doing. I can't describe it any better than that."

"Well, first priority hasn't changed. We must first find him. Any ideas?"

"Take out an ad in craigslist?" Kid Flash tried to make it sound like a joke. Then he saw the looks the others were giving him. "Okay, okay, bad idea."

"Okay, everyone. Let's explore some ideas," directed J'onn.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Where the Heart Is

The Gold Corps: Chapter 8: Where the Heart Is

It was early nighttime, and once again, Ragnar sat atop the tallest tower he could find, watching the lights of the city below. They didn't seem quite so cheerful, now.

Well, he thought. _That_ certainly could have gone better.

He couldn't believe the green girl had betrayed him like she had. All he'd wanted to do was talk, but everybody seemed determined to, to…well, to capture him, or kill him, or something equally unpleasant.

Maybe he should just go home. Yes, that was it. Just go back home to his ship/home, and forget all about this "finding others to talk to" nonsense. It wasn't working out, anyway. He'd thought for certain he could trust the green girl; after all, _she'd_ tried to talk to _him_, outside that burning building. But maybe even that had been a ruse; maybe she'd intended all along to trap him, somehow. She'd certainly tried.

And it wasn't like he was leaving anything here. The only real friend he'd made here was Sarah, there at that school thing. He found himself wishing he could take her with him, but he knew that wouldn't be the right thing to do. She belonged here; this was her world. Just as it wasn't his.

Besides, if his ring kept on like it had been, it would soon be out of charge completely. And he didn't think this was a very good world to be trapped on, with no power ring. If he had to live without the ring, it would be better to just go home. At least there, he knew who the predators _were._

Thinking about his home, far away across the stars, he actually felt a tear course down his cheek. Yes. That was the right thing to do. Just go home to his nice, safe little dwelling place, make sure his defenses were in place, and just go to bed. This whole business of trying to find someone else was proving to be more heartbreaking than fulfilling. Maybe he'd even black out the windows and portholes altogether, just forget there even _was_ an outside world. His ship/home could support him, indefinitely, anyway, without any need for him to go outside or do anything to recharge or refuel it. Completely without meaning to, he found himself actually weeping, longing for his home, and the life he'd once scorned.

But he did want to say goodbye to Sarah, his one true friend, first. So he flew over to the area where her house was, it being past the time for school.

That was odd; there was no house there. Nor was there any sign of a house such as he'd seen before. Just a vacant lot, overgrown with weeds. Could he have been mistaken? But he was sure he wasn't…right over there, was the tall tree she'd told him she used to play in, and just a few feet further, the little rise he'd taken note of, when he'd dropped her off. It had been behind her house.

He just had to've been mistaken. That was all there was to it. He'd just gotten his directions wrong, that was all. There was no sign of the two-story dwelling that he'd seen earlier. So this had to be the wrong spot. But then, how to find her?

Without any clear purpose, he drifted on the air currents over towards the school where he'd met her. Odd: there were lights blazing, coming from within. Some sort of after hours function, he guessed.

But Sarah might be there. And it was the only other place he knew to look. So he drifted over, just over the little hill where he'd first come to eat those horrible tasting _burritos_, she'd called them. He kept scanning, scanning to see if any of the children were out playing in the playground….but none were.

Well, he guessed she wasn't here, either. It was a pity; he'd hoped to see her one last ti-*

"Mr. Ragnar!" Her voice caught his attention, and there she was, standing outside in the playground where he'd first met her and her friend, Tommy. She was looking up at him, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Mr. Ragnar! Help!"

He swooped down with the speed of a falling star and landed right in front of her. "Sarah! I'm so glad to see you! I-*"

She grabbed his arm. "Please, Mr. Ragnar! We need your help! You know that bad man I was telling you about, the one they call the Joker? He's in there, an' he's got everybody tied up. He's gonna gas 'em with his Joker-gas. Mr. Ragnar, it'll _kill_ them! You've gotta _do_ something!"

Ragnar looked up. Although he was in back of the school, he could see the reflections of the flashing blue and red lights that meant the human's law enforcement officials had arrived. But what could they do against a cloud of poisonous gas?

He turned to a frightened Sarah. "I _will_ do something, Sarah. But first, I must charge my ring." Again, out came the battery:

"_In blackest day, in brightest night_

_Beware your fears made into light_

_Let those who'd try to stop what's right_

_Burn like his power, Sinestro's might!"_

This time, the ascending whine didn't go as far as it had last time, only up to about sixty-five percent, he guessed. But no matter how much or how little it was, he was still determined to do something about this man who caused such misery in others simply because he could.

Inside: The Joker surveyed his captives. "I do so _love_ a captive audience. Not to toot my own horn, ladies and germs, but I can promise you without a doubt that this next part will be a real killer!" And he prepared the canisters of Joker-gas, setting the timer…

…Only to have some spoilsport in a golden costume crash straight down through the ceiling and direct an energy blast at him. He rolled, coming to his feet with the practice of years. "Ah, the inevitable gate crasher. Just couldn't wait to stream it on Youtube, now could you? Well, thanks to you, I'll just have to rush things a little." And with that, he depressed a button he was concealing in the palm of his left glove.

The stop-cocks on the metal bottles immediately began to hiss as they released their deadly contents. "Always leave 'em laughing, that's what I always say!"

Ragnar thought, at the speed of one used to thinking for his life. The gases being released had to be the poison Sarah had spoken of. He used his ring, and what charge remained on it, to analyze its contents….the structure of its molecules was what made it deadly.

…and with that realization, he sent a wave of molecular disintegration towards the gas and the tanks, both of which dissolved into their component atoms, harmlessly.

"No, no, no! You've just _ruined the joke!_ What in the name of Milton Berle is _wrong_ with you?" The Clown Prince of Crime was aghast at seeing his carefully laid plans disrupted.

Ragnar leaped for him, not using his ring, but just slamming the villain up against the wall by sheer muscle. "You tried to hurt my friend." Genetics, and a lifetime of fending for himself had gifted him with muscles many bodybuilders would envy, and he started to squeeze the Joker's throat. _Surely, such a one as this does not deserve to live._

"Well," gasped the Joker, "I guess if you can't take a joke, you'll just have to make do with _this!"_ And Ragnar suddenly felt something sharp and painful penetrate his chest. Looking down, he saw the handle of the switchblade the Joker had imbedded in his ribs, saw the blood pouring out, and felt his strength fading. It _hurt._

But it would've hurt Sarah even more. That thought made him angrier than he'd ever been before in his life, and the pain faded as new strength coursed through his body.

Gasping, he pulled the knife out, and, still holding the Joker up against the wall, slammed the same blade right into the laughing clown's chest…

And with that, darkness overtook him…

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9: Deadly Reunion

The Gold Corps: Chapter 9: Deadly Reunion

"_Code blue, people, code blue. C'mon, folks, make a hole!"_ The EMTs hurried an unconscious Ragnar, an oxygen mask already over his face, into the emergency room's direct entry room. "What've we got?" asked the attending physician, already masked and gloving up.

"Knife stab wound." The techs had staunched the flow of blood from the golden garbed figure and applied pressure, but the blood flow wasn't letting up. "Don't think it hit his heart, but, if not, it's a miracle. It's right where the heart should be." The stat X-rays were just then coming in.

"What about the other one?"

"He's not so bad off, but we've definitely got him restrained. Four points. _Leather_ restraints, too. Unless he's Houdini, he ain't gettin' outta that so easy."

"Hm. What's this?" The doctor was looking at the X-rays. "This can't be right. It looks like his heart's off center…take another X-ray. Any other victims?"

"No, sir. The rest of 'em are still scared half out of their minds, but they're alive. Thanks to this guy, evidently."

Whatever, thought the doctor. Right then, that didn't concern him all that much. "Blood type? I'm sure he'll need a transfusion…he's bleeding all over the place." And he was. The Joker's blade had narrowly missed Ragnar's heart. "Get some type O down here, until we can determine his specific type."

The doctors worked feverishly to stem to bleeding. They couldn't get his uniform off of him, and the strange golden ring on his finger couldn't even be scratched. But they were able to get a line into a major vein in his arm, and began pumping unit after unit into his unconscious form….

"Doctor, we're losing him."

The doctor ground his teeth. "No, we're not." To the quiescent form on the gurney, "Don't you dare die on me, hero. Not in my ER." To the nurse, "Set him up with an IV, fluids, stat. Ready a defib, just in case" He paused a moment, noting Ragnar's deep blue skin. "And, uh, as soon as you can… give the Justice League a call. This guy's more in their field than ours. He might have needs we don't know about."

"Doctor, his vitals are dropping."

"_Dam_mit. Where's those new X-rays?"

Ragnar drifted in a kind of limbo. He didn't hurt, and he felt warm and comfortable. Strangely, he felt completely unafraid, for perhaps the first time in his life. Some part of him knew he was dying, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. He'd tried his best to do what he thought was right, and he really had no regrets. He wished he could see his friend Sarah one more time…and while he was at it, maybe the green girl. Maybe she hadn't been so bad after all. And even if she had been, she was the only person he'd ever met (besides Sarah, of course) with whom he'd actually _talked._

And, yes, she was, what was the expression? _Pretty_? Yes, he guessed she was _pretty_. No matter what her true form was—and somewhere in the back of his mind, he had some general idea as to what her true form looked like, but it really didn't matter to him; she was still _pretty._ He'd never really thought about that, about anybody, before. Not that any of that mattered, of course. Stars were pretty, but he knew better than to get too close to one.

But he remembered their conversation, the way she twirled her hair…

He remembered eating his meal, those _cheeseburgers,_ with Sarah, there in that brightly lit establishment that sold food. That had been a nice time. Odd that she hadn't eaten anything, but he supposed one only ate when one was hungry. Yes, that made sense.

All of a sudden, it seemed like he was back at that restaurant, and Sarah was sitting across the table from him. There was a peculiar _intensity_ to the way she was looking at him. "Mr. Ragnar! _Mr. Ragnar!_ You've got to snap out of it! You're dying! You don't want to die, do you?"

Somehow, he found himself replying without using words. _Maybe just as well. At least I won't be alone anymore._

"But you don't understand! There's something you've got to do, something _only_ you can do! If you don't, lots of people are gonna die! C'mon! Come on back to us! Come on back to _me!"_

_But what? What can I do? I don't even know what I'm supposed to do, anymore!_

In his mind, he could feel her take his hand. "Just trust me, okay? You _do_ trust me, don't you? Trust me now. We need you! _I_ need you! You've got to fight!"

He didn't understand any of this, but if Sarah said she needed him, then she must need him. He'd fight, for her.

The attending doctors and nurses were caught completely off-guard when the still form they were working on coughed, and tried to move, weakly. "Okay, good deal. Maybe…where's that lab? Oh, never mind. Start some type O, stat!"

…..

Ragnar came to, barely, aware that he was lying on some sort of bunk, not totally unlike what he'd had back at home. It was soft, and contoured. But his head ached, and there was a curious sensation on his right arm. Looking down, he saw the IV drip, going into his arm. While he'd never had such a thing before, it wasn't difficult to figure out what it was there for.

He struggled to remember. Oh, yes. The green girl betraying him, when all he wanted to do was talk. His decision to return home, and his desire to say goodbye to his only friend, Sarah. Seeing her outside the school, her telling him about the evil man inside, his fight with that same madman…gradually, it all came back to him.

Consciousness faded…

The two figures in white lab coats walked hand in hand down the hallway. A passing nurse's aide saw them and smiled. _Look at them,_ she thought. _They must be newlyweds. Can't bear to be without the other._ But as they passed, she was conscious of a foul odor coming from somewhere, and resolved to have somebody from Maintenance check the ventilation system. Something must have crawled in there and died. It wouldn't be the first time.

The two walked confidently up to the nurse's check station, there in the intensive care unit. The taller of them, the man, picked up the chart on the patient in room 7, and began flipping through it. "Who's the nurse on duty for bed 7?"

"I am," replied the charge nurse. "You two must be new. You been assigned to his case?"

The two exchanged the briefest of glances. "Yes. We have some experience with extraterrestrial beings," said the man. The nurse took a moment to look the couple over. The man was tall and slim, with a thick shock of close-cut black hair and black eyes, while the woman with him, also attired in the white lab coat doctors normally wore, had a dark, almost Mediterranean skin tone, and wavy black hair, with one long highlight down the left side. No doubt it was her imagination, but for some reason something about their appearance reminded her of the patient in room 7. But both of them exuded an air of complete competency; clearly this wasn't their first rodeo. The charge nurse noted the man's badge identified him as a "Dr. Osborn." She shook her head. Too many changes. She didn't remember a "Dr. Osborn" as being mentioned on any rotation list, but if he was a specialist, brought in from outside, that information just might not have reached her yet…"He's extraterrestrial? An alien, you mean?"

"Of course. Look at these X-rays." He held them up to the light. "Heart in the wrong position—for a human; that was the only thing that saved his life. As it was, the blade narrowly missed a lung. And look: he's got some odd looking organ right on top of his heart, and, in case you hadn't noticed, he doesn't even have an appendix. Instead, he's got _this_." He pointed to a strange looking organ just above what appeared to be the kidneys. "I've seen this sort of thing before: different evolutionary patterns produce similar but not identical results. He comes from some other planet, where the people evolved differently, that's all. Fortunately, for him, not wildly different, or he'd be in serious trouble. But as it is, just enough to require special attention." He smiled at the charge nurse, who was studying the X-rays. "As I said, I've some experience with these cases." He glanced at his wife, who smiled back up at him. "We both do. Now. "Suddenly, he became business-like. "We'll need about 10cc's of norepinephrene, to start with. The important thing is to keep his blood pressure stable, and watch for any sign of infection. You got any recent lab on him? No? Let's get some…we need to know if he's allergic to our standard antibiotics. Make that a priority; he might not have any immunity to some bugs we don't even think twice about. That's never a given, with ET's. And while we're at it, get me some morphine, just in case. I'll write the orders and see to it that they go in the chart."

"Yes, sir." Off she went.

The tall figure in white turned to look at the other one, and took her hand in his. _"Ssoon, my love. Ssoon."_

"_Let it be soon, my dearest. I long to hold our boy in my arms, again."_

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10: The Chosen Path

The Gold Corps: Genesis, Chapter 10: The Chosen Path

Ragnar again awoke, to find himself in the hospital bed, with strange machines clustered around him, beeping and booping, as well as making other, less easily identifiable sounds. There was no-one around…

"Mr. Ragnar!" Sarah was standing right by his bed. "You've got to get out of here! There's bad people coming for you! Come on! You've got to hurry!"

Groggily, he forced himself fully awake. Not being familiar with Earthly medical protocol, it never occurred to him to wonder what she was doing here, or how she'd gotten in. All he knew was, she was here. "Where…what…what's going on, Sarah?"

Again, as in his dream, she took his hand. "I'll explain it all later, Mr. Ragnar. Right now, we have to go!" He felt a sharp tug on his upper right arm, and watched as the IV needle withdrew, all by itself, the surgical tape winding off his arm. No doubt it was programmed to do that, upon his awakening. Their technology must be a little higher than he'd supposed. "But where are we going, Sarah?"

"Somewhere where you'll be safe. Or at least saf_er_." And she led him out of the small cubicle and down towards a door marked "fire exit." He looked around for other people, people such as he'd seen during his brief periods of wakefulness earlier, but didn't see anyone. Curiously, none of the other hospital beds seemed to be occupied, either. That struck him as odd; surely, in a city this size, there had to be others who needed medical attention. Nor did he see any of the nurses or attendants he vaguely remembered from before, in his brief moment of wakefulness. But then he just shrugged, and allowed her to pull him along, through the doors and down the stairs…

…..

Outside the ICU, Hal Jordan, Nightwing, and Miss Martian were conferring with the charge nurse. "No ID, you say? But a yellow uniform and ring?"

The nurse frowned. "I was actually calling it _gold._" She shrugged. "But I suppose it could have been. But he's lucky he got an ICU bed; we're almost at max capacity now."

"Has he had any visitors? Anyone? Anyone at all?"

"No. Nobody except for those two specialists who got assigned to his case. Don't believe they've seen him yet, though." She paused, and gave the smallest of sighs. "This being an unusual case, I suppose it's okay to let you back to see him. Is he one of yours?"

"We move in the same circles," replied Green Lantern, evasively. "And yes, we'd really like to see him. He _is_ conscious, isn't he?"

"Barely. Here. Come this way." She escorted them into the crowded ICU. "Oh, there are the two specialists they called in to work on him. Dr. Osborn! These people are here to see the patient in bed 7."

The two figures turned slowly to look at the heroes—and Megan Morse felt a dread beyond anything she'd ever felt in her young life. _Nightwing! Green Lantern! Watch out!_

_What is it, Megan?_

_I can't sense anything from these two! It's like they don't exist! There's something…unnatural about them!_

Nightwing made a snap decision. Fast as a cobra, he drew forth and hurled, in one smooth motion, a stun disk straight at the pair by the nurses' station. Hal brought up his ring's shield to protect them all from the shockwave…

The flash and blast momentarily disrupted the illusion about the two "doctors," revealing them for what they were. _"Black Lanterns! Get __down__, you two!"_ And Green Lantern moved to defend and attack, even as he signaled the Watchtower for reinforcements. "J'onn! Situation! Black Lanterns, repeat Black Lanterns here in the hospital where our renegade yellow lantern was taken! We're gonna need backup, and _now!_

"_Hang on, we're coming."_

_But will they come fast enough?_ Wondered Hal.

The male turned fully towards them. "Sso. You would interfere in a matter that does not conssern you, would you?" He pointed a finger, and every sharp object in the ICU levitated and became deadly missiles, all of them homing in on the three heroes like Sidewinder heat-seekers. Nightwing deflected many with his batons, while Green Lantern and Miss Martian threw up force-fields. But the smaller of the two then focused on Megan and sent a concentrated blast of dark energy directly at her, slamming her through the wall, and down into the furnace room, downstairs

Megan hit hard, rolling just like Dick and Black Canary had taught her, regaining her feet in less than a second. She turned to see the female Black Lantern standing by the far wall. _"Sssooo,"_ hissed the creature, and Megan was reminded of an Earthly snake, except what she faced was far deadlier than any reptile. "_You would keep my son from me. But only as long as you live. And that can be easily remedied."_ A simple blast from her power ring served to open up the furnace, letting the intense heat out. Some nearby objects caught fire…and Miss Martian was already feeling her powers and her consciousness fading, as the fire spread...

She had a dim sensation of someone helping her up, getting underneath her arm. Then, nothing.

She came to in a blissfully cool forest glade. The stars shown overhead, through the trees. Some latent instinct that was old when Mars still had seas of water told her to remain where she was, to pretend to be still unconscious.

And she heard the voice of the yellow lantern they'd pursued, the one she'd spoken to. It sounded like he was talking to someone. "—ome. This isn't any sudden decision I've come to, Sarah. It's really best. This whole 'finding other people' thing just isn't working out for me. So far, everybody I've found is chasing me. Okay, yes, with certain reason. But it's just not for me. Besides, my ring's losing charge; if this goes on, I'll be trapped here, on this world where everybody's hunting me, with no power. I'll be helpless. I can't have that."

There was a brief pause. Then a little girl's voice spoke up. "What color is your ring, Mr. Ragnar?" Megan was puzzled. The voice sounded like a little human girl's, but the phrasing and inflection…

"Why, it's yellow, of course. It's always been yellow."

"But it's _not._ Look at it, Mr. Ragnar. And look at your uniform, too. Look at them closely."

Another pause. "I don't see-*"

"They're _gold,_ Mr. Ragnar. And look at your ring. Look at the insignia on it."

Ragnar looked at his ring. It was true; the design of the symbol on it _had_ changed. But when had that happened? He was familiar with the old design, the winged circle. But this…he didn't know how to describe this symbol at all. It was very different from the one he knew. It sat there, on his finger where it had been ever since he first received it, glowing with a strangely deep light that somehow didn't seem to belong totally in this universe.

Sarah shifted on the log where she was sitting. "Doesn't it make sense that if your ring is different, the oath you use to charge it has to be different, too?"

"That's…true. But now I don't know the oath to charge it with. So I'm essentially in no better position than I was." He sighed. "It's really for the better that I go back home, Sarah. All I seem to've done is bring about misery. I never wanted to do that."

There was another pause, while Megan strained to hear. Although she was turned the right way, and although her Martian vision could, physically, see through her closed eyelids, due to a psychological quirk, it didn't work so long as her eyes were actually shut. But she strained to hear what was being said. Was this the "Sarah" he'd mentioned? A figment of his imagination? But then how could she hear her? A ring construct, maybe? But…

Then the other voice, the little girl's voice, spoke up again. "Why did you save her, Mr. Ragnar?"

"There was no reason not to. She wasn't to blame for what happened. She was only, only the bait in the trap. And, and even if she had intended it all along…There's still no reason to hate her."

"But why did you save her? Why not just let her die?"

"I, I don't know."

"_Could_ you have let her die?"

"Of course I could." Pause. "Well, no. Not…really. I don't…I don't understand that."

"Maybe you need to ask yourself that. It's really very important." Pause. "She's awake, by the way."

"Yes," he said, "she's been awake for a while now."

Miss Martian opened her eyes and sat up. Seated over on a fallen log was the golden garbed person she'd spoken with earlier. Seated right by him was a little human girl, dressed in what looked like a school uniform. She looked to be about eight or nine years old.

Something about the girl made Megan's skin prickle. She focused her telepathy on the child—and encountered nothing. But not the nothingness she'd sensed earlier, not the _unnaturalness_ the Black Lanterns had exuded. This little girl…the only one of her nine senses that even registered that there was somebody there was the sense of sight. To all other senses, she did not exist.

"Ragnar? Why _did_ you save me?"

He fidgeted, sitting on his log. "You…weren't to blame. I guess I have made some mistakes since coming here. I guess I can't blame you and your group for trying to capture me." He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Ragnar…it's like I said. You aren't an evil person, not at heart." She turned her attention to the "little girl" sitting beside him. Knelt down in front of her. "Who are you?" she asked softly, almost as if she were afraid of the answer.

What looked for all the world like a little human girl looked her straight in the eyes. "You know me. We've met."

"We…we have? I _know_ you?" But just then, her communicator beeped: _"Megan! Where are you?"_ came Nightwing's voice over the 'comm.

"I'm…I'm here, Dick." She looked around her for the first time. In the distance, through the trees, she could see the city lights, hear the sirens sounding. Focusing her Martian senses, she could see the hospital, and the gaping hole in its side, the workers scrambling to recover. "What's the situation?"

"_We managed to maneuver those two Black Lanterns outside. But they're not letting up. We need you!"_

She got up. "Ragnar? I have to go. My teammates need me." She paused. "We could use your help."

But he shook his head. "Even if you didn't want to capture me, the truth is, my ring's running out of charge. I wouldn't be much use to you, anyway."

"Well, I certainly can't make you." But then she remembered something. "But I think it's important to _you_, that you should get involved in this. I think it has something to do with you."

He stood up, a look of determination on his blue face. She remembered how John Stewart had remarked on the color; something about it…"No. I'm going back home. That's the best place for me, anyway. I should never have left."

She turned to him. "Ragnar…you know what Black Lanterns are, don't you?"

"People who have risen from the dead? Yes, I read about that. Why? What does that have to do with me?"

"The one who attacked me called you her 'son.'"

A disbelieving look came over his face. "You…must be mistaken. My parents are dead. They've been dead since almost before I was born. I saw their bones, clearly, in my ship, before I left. And, and even if…that's light-years from here. _Hundreds _of light-years. They _can't_ be here." She could literally feel him fighting his own disbelief.

"Black Lanterns can be wherever they want to be, Ragnar. Besides, _you're_ here, aren't you? So why _couldn't_ they be here?"

She had a point. But…"My parents? Here?"

She reached out for his arm. "Ragnar…I know you're lonely. I know you miss your parents…but what's out there _isn't them_. Not really. But whatever they are, they _are_ here for you. I don't really understand everything about that, myself. But I do know that they'll cause untold misery here, looking for you.

"They want you to join them. In death. In _death,_ Ragnar!"

He thought about that, long and hard. Then, "But…what can I _do?_ I don't have any power! My, my ring only has enough charge to get me back home. I can't help you!"

"Well, I've got to go try. But Ragnar, listen: if they're here for you, they could just as easily follow you back to your home, now, couldn't they? And then what would you do? You'd have no charge left on your ring. You'd be helpless. Here, you have a chance. There's others here, who'll help you, if only you'll let us!"

He still hesitated. The desire to return home, to just pull the covers up over his head and forget this whole business of a mission was so terribly appealing…

"I've got to go." And she flew off into the night.

The battle wasn't going well, for the defenders. Black Lanterns, being already dead, couldn't be killed, or even wounded. Whatever happened to them, they recovered from almost instantly. John Stewart, Vixen, and Hawkgirl had teleported into the fray, but even they were hard pressed to keep the undead from their seemingly single-minded goal.

Hawkgirl's mace had knocked the male's head completely off his shoulders. It was of only momentary inconvenience; the head simply floated back onto the body and re-attached itself. Vixen had caught the edge of a black ring blast, and was busy healing herself, using her powers.

Nightwing, Kid Flash, Zatanna, and the two Green Lanterns were trying their best to herd the zombies away from the more populated districts. Unfortunately, that seemed to be their destination, and about all the heroes succeeded in doing was slowing them down by the tiniest of fractions. Neither the Green Lanterns' rings nor Zatanna's magic seemed to have much effect.

Miss Martian rejoined them. "What kept you?" asked Nightwing.

"Talking to a friend. I think those are Ragnar's parents…or rather, what's left of them."

"So they're here because of him? Great. So whaddawe do, give him to 'em?"

"Nightwing, I can't believe you just said that. Besides. When have you ever known a Black Lantern to be satisfied with just one?" She prepared to telekinetically hurl a piece of a ruined vehicle at them…

All of a sudden, Ragnar appeared there, between them and the zombies. He was out of breath from running, as he didn't want to waste his remaining power ring charge in flight. "Go away," he said. "Stop hurting people."

The male turned to him, and held out his hand. _"Sson. We've come so far, looking for you. Come with uss. We'll be a family again."_

The female joined in, also raising her hand towards the gold-clad figure. _"Your father iss right. Come with uss, son. We've missed you sso much…and we know you've missed us."_

Ragnar couldn't believe how tempting that sounded. It was what he'd always wanted to hear, what he'd dreamed of, back on his home world. His parents…they could be together again, could be a family again…and he'd never again have to be lonely, ever. They'd be together, always….

But…"You…you aren't my parents. I don't know what they were like, but I, I know they weren't like you! They were good people! Go away! Leave these people alone! They haven't done anything to you!"

"_They've kept you from uss. Even the one called 'Sinesstro.' He, too, kept you from us. Come back with us, boy. It'ss really better this way. And you'll ssee. It'ss not so bad, over here, in Nekron's paradise."_

The male took the syringe of morphine out from the ruin of a lab coat he wore. _"Here. This is all it takes. Just let me give you this, and it'll all be over. No more fear, no more pain, no more lonelinesss…"_

"Ragnar!" Megan shouted at him, "Don't listen to them! It's all a trick!"

"_No trick, sson. Just an end to all life'ss ssuffering."_

The female chimed in. _"We only want what'ss besst for you, Ragnar. Didn't we program the sship to take care of you? Take care of you until we could come for you. You ssee that, don't you?"_ She sounded almost beseeching.

Again, Ragnar hesitated. The others held back, both from not wanting to hit him with their weapons, and also sensing that this was a drama that had to be allowed to unfold. "Ragnar!" It was the green girl again. Why was she bothering him so? "Look at them! _Those aren't your parents!_ They're the past! You have to live in the future! That's all _any_ of us have!"

He straightened up. "No." Tears were flowing freely down his face. "No. She's right. You aren't my parents. My parents programmed the ship to keep me _alive._ You want me _dead._ Dead like you.

"I _won't_ go with you!"

"_Ssuch a disappointment. I ssuppose we'll just have to do this the hard way." _ While they'd been talking, the two Black Lanterns had half-circled him. Now they caught him in a crossfire of black energy beams. He flew across the street, his ring not having enough charge to shield him adequately.

The others renewed their attack. As before, the Black Lanterns were slowed, but not stopped. Steadily, steadily, they made progress towards him…

Ragnar came to, with his head in Sarah's lap. She was stroking his forehead lovingly. "Mr. Ragnar. You've got to fight this. You remember me telling you there was something only you could do? This is it. You remember what happened to Tommy's mother? Do you think that thing would've stopped with just her? If you go with them, you'll add the power of your ring to their own. The effect will multiply their rings' power. The three of you will become a force never before seen in the universe. You'll cause death and pain and fear on a cosmic scale. And it would never stop. Never."

"But…but what can I _do?_ My, my ring has no charge…"

She cradled his head on her knees. "You know the ring's power comes from what you _want_ to do, don't you? So…what do you want to do? What do you _really_ want?"

"I…I want not to be afraid."

"A world without fear." She pronounced it like a benediction.

"I want others to _not have to be_ afraid…"

"You would be their Protector_._"

"Yes, but…how?"

Again, she stroked his forehead. "Your ring has changed. _You've_ changed. So you have to change your oath. You have to say what you _want,_ not what you think you're _supposed_ to want."

"But…"

"Sshh. Say what you want to say. Say what you want, what you _need _to say, from your heart, not your mind. I'll guide you." She placed her hand on his forehead. Dimly, he saw his battery by his side, floating in mid-air, its interface rotating to meet him. Strange; he couldn't remember summoning it. With her other hand, she held his ring against its surface.

"_To those in fear, I come to aid…"_

"To those in fear, I come to aid," he repeated.

"_Let those who cause fear be afraid."_

"Let those who cause fear be afraid." He could hear an ascending tone coming from his ring…

"_Nevermore shall one fear fright…"_

"Nevermore shall one fear fright…" The tone from his ring was rising rapidly, the light from it increasingly bright, as the charge built up.

"_So swear I, by this golden light!"_ they both chorused.

Full power!

His aches and pains receded. They didn't go away, but now he felt renewed, in body and spirit. He _knew_ what he had to do. He had _a purpose._

Kid Flash had tried for a side-attack. Fast as he was, the female Black Lantern was faster, and blasted him into a nearby corner, next to a wall. She moved in for the kill…

And a fully recharged Ragnar Rok blasted _her,_ forcing her back, ever back. Nightwing hauled Kid Flash to the relative safety of the group. "So," said Hal, "I take it you're with us now?"

"Yes. I—we have to stop them." And he trained his ring on the approaching zombies…

They fell back before the onslaught of the golden light, but were not stopped. Inch by inch, they slowly made their way towards the besieged heroes.

"That's it," said John Stewart, "I don't know what your ring does, or how it works, but it drives them back. Keep it up!"

"I'm giving it all I have! And they're not stopping!"

Megan stepped forward. "Then maybe we should give it all_ we _have. C'mon, everyone. Join with me." And she placed her hand on his arm, _willing_ her own power into and through his ring, adding her power to his.

The two Green Lanterns, Nightwing, Kid Flash, Vixen, and Hawkgirl, after only a moment's hesitation, also placed their hands on his shoulders, adding their will to his own. The zombies were halted in their tracks. "Go back," whispered Ragnar. "I _reject_ you! Go back to whatever hell you came from!"

Slowly, slowly, the zombies began to disintegrate, bits and pieces of them washing away in the flood of golden light. _"Ssuch a dissappointment…"_ Then the light swallowed them both, and they were gone.

An exhausted Ragnar fell to his knees, there in the street. Tears were running down his cheeks. What if he'd been wrong?

But no. He _knew_ those things would've kept on killing, would have killed these standing with him, would have killed the green girl, who was even now kneeling beside him…"Ragnar, you did it. They're gone. You did it." He couldn't reply, and just let her hold him…

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11: Aftermath

The Gold Corps: Genesis, Chapter 11: Aftermath

Mt. Justice: Once again, Nightwing had arranged a conference call with the Watchtower, and Arisia. "So, you're Ragnar Rok," said the latter.

"You know, we were supposed to bring you in, to Oa, for the Guardians to deal with. But if you," and here she turned to Hal, sitting with John Stewart, there in Mr. Justice, "will accept full responsibility for him…"

"We will." He glanced over at Ragnar, seated by Miss Martian. Ever since the battle with the two Black Lanterns, she seemed to've taken a special interest in him. "I think…I think it'll be okay. It will be okay, won't it, Ragnar?"

Ragnar studied his hands. He still couldn't understand why his ring—and his uniform—had _changed_, or when it had happened. But it had, and, being the pragmatist he was, he simply accepted it…for now. "Yes. I will cause you no more trouble as I have been. I…don't want people to be afraid of me, or, really, of anything." He turned to the monitor, to Arisia's image. "I'm sorry for attacking you. Had I known then what I know now, I wouldn't have done so."

"That's…alright, Ragnar. Everybody makes mistakes. You didn't do anything a couple of aspirin couldn't take care of. I've had worse. Lots worse. Apology accepted. But I would like to meet you, face to face. And Hal," she turned to Jordan, "remember: tomorrow we meet at L'Italiane for lunch. Remember? So bring him with you."

Hal slapped his forehead. "Damn, what with all that's happened, I'd forgotten all about that. Yeah, okay. We'll be there. Ragnar? You didn't have any plans for tomorrow, did you?"

"No. But what is 'lunch,' anyway?

Megan hooked her arm in his. "We'll _both_ be there." She saw their looks. "What? _Somebody's_ gotta show him how Earth life works. And I know from experience how confusing _that_ can be.

"And," she continued, "we've got to get you enrolled in school. You look to be about high school age; you'll probably have to take some tests, but we'll help you with that. _I'll_ help you with that.

"You've got friends, now, Ragnar. Friends who'll help you. And _I'm_ one of them." She saw his look. "What's wrong?"

"It…I was so powerfully _tempted_ to go with my pa—those Black Lanterns, those _things_. A part of me really wanted to.

"And a part of me still does."

"Well," she said, "It's like I said: they're the past. You have to leave the past behind, live in the future. And your future includes us. That is, if you want it to."

"I do. I am still unsure as to how to behave around _friends._ I never had any. That is, except for Sarah."

"That's another thing," interjected J'onn, "We can't find any record of anyone named 'Sarah Marshall,' meeting the description you gave, who attends or ever attended the elementary school where you met her. The closest we've come to matching the description you both gave is a Sarah Marshall in Detroit, but she's twenty-nine and married. Neither of her children is named Sarah, and she, herself, never attended elementary school here. Do you have any idea where she could have come from?"

"No. All I know is, I met her on the playground of that school. I tried to find her house, when I was determined to leave. But there was no house there. Nor any sign of any house having ever been there."

"Well, we'll have to research that a little. Arisia? You don't suppose the Guardians would know anything about all this, would you?"

"I've already communicated with them about recent events, especially about his ring changing like that, evidently on its own. All I got was the standard double-talk and a 'don't ask non-essential questions' response. That's what they usually say when they don't know, themselves."

Kid Flash noticed Megan's arm, still hooked through Ragnar's, and nudged Superboy. "I think Megan's gotta new boyfriend," he snickered. All of a sudden, some invisible force yanked his chair out from under him. "Yeowp!"

Superboy laughed. "I was just about to do that, myself. Thanks for saving me the trouble, Megan."

"Any little thing I can do to help," she replied, also grinning. But in the back of her mind, she wondered if what Kid Flash had said might not have a certain amount of merit…

"Why are your cheeks turning red like that?" asked Ragnar.

"Oh, no reason. It's just something that happens, sometimes."

"One thing is clear," continued J'onn, "I think we're all agreed this 'little girl' is far more than just a little girl. Nightwing, Hal. I want you two to work together on that. Whatever the case, it somehow involves power rings to one degree or another. So combine your efforts. We need answers.

"And you, M'gann. I trust you'll show our new friend around?"

Megan looked fondly at the still-troubled Ragnar. "I think you can count on me for that, Uncle J'onn."

Kid Flash had regained his seat. "So…he's in? Hey, this is great! Now we have our very own Green—well, yellow, but you know—Lantern!"

"No," Ragnar spoke up sharply, his attention diverted from whatever he'd been thinking. "I'm not a yellow lantern. I'm not Sinestro Corps. I don't believe in ruling by fear." He settled back, arms crossed, a look of determination on his face.

"I'm _Gold Corps._ Now and forevermore."

_To those in fear, I come to aid_

_Let those who cause fear be afraid _

_Nevermore shall one fear fright_

_So swear I, by this Golden Light!_

The End.


End file.
